


The Hunt

by andrhars



Series: The Grand Hunt [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: A good apple pie, Alternate Universe - Dark, Brothels, F/F, F/M, Hunters, M/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Secret Society, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 78
Words: 402,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrhars/pseuds/andrhars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Link wanted was to make some money. He had no idea that following a street rat would expose him to a world that he'd believed to only be real in stories and rumours: A world of beasts and those who hunt them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Offer

Link barely avoided stepping into an ankle-deep puddle as he followed his little guide deeper into the streets of Castle Town. Where the little boy expertly dodged and weaved his way through the heavy traffic and around tight corners, avoiding carriages and carts with barely any effort, Link felt like a bumbling buffoon, trampling on people's toes and knocking into the thousands of little stalls that seemed to line every single street. The pouring rain and approaching darkness did little to improve visibility, and he found himself wondering what kind of people felt the need to be outside on such a night.

Of course, he also had to ask that of himself.

His answer was easy, though: Money. The all-mighty rupee was a necessity he could no longer ignore, and, as he had been told on multiple occasions, the big city was the place to earn it. The stories made it sound like the streets were paved with the gems, though so far he had seen very little of it. None, to be exact. His pitiful pouch containing travelling funds was practically empty at this point, and he was getting desperate.

It had been an innocuous, seemingly random encounter on the street earlier that day. The little boy must have seen Link's crestfallen expression at being denied yet another position, despite there being a "Help wanted"-sign in the shop's window. Granted, he didn't have a lot of skills, and very of few of those he _did_ have weren't somehow related to farming. He was fine with not being accepted as a clerk in a high-fashion store. After all, what did he know of fashion? The last straw, however, had been the various warehouses of the city refusing to take him on because he wouldn't be used to the "high precision" needed to move stock around. As if picking up and moving a crate from one spot to another was a complicated physics problem! After that, he had strongly considered returning home in shame.

But then the boy had approached him, given him a cheeky smile, and said: "Looking for work, mister?"

The conversation that followed was quick and not particularly detailed. The boy had simply asked him if he could lift heavy things, was not afraid of getting his hands dirty and, above all, had a strong stomach. Link had answered yes to all these questions, and that had been it. The boy had then told Link to meet him in the same square three hours before midnight, which he'd done. And then the chase had begun.

"Excuse me," Link said, feeling very much like a fish out of water, especially in the more tired, well-worn part of the city the boy was leading him through. Here, the citizens of Castle Town seemed rougher around the edges, less pleasant in demeanour, and most of all, mean. Already, someone had taken swipes at him twice for even _daring_ to look at them. "How much further?"

"Almost there now, mister!" the boy replied, grinning at him. He looked to be about eight or nine years old, and was dressed in what could only be described as rags, covered in dirt and filth. He did, however, look quite well fed for someone Link assumed to live on the street. "Just a few more blocks!"

Four blocks, it turned out, and they had taken a turn into what was clearly one of the seedier parts of an already seedy part of town. Here, Link was propositioned every few steps by a variety of merchants of the night, offering him just about everything a person could ask for in terms of...pleasure and ways to achieve said pleasure. For a moment, Link thought the boy was taking the piss, and that he would be luring the newcomer into some sort of ambush. It would certainly have served Link right, for trusting a complete stranger.

But then the boy paused outside a dilapidated building, most of its windows broken and shattered. Only one window on the third floor had its glass intact, and from within shone a bright light. The boy gave Link a triumphant grin. "In here, mister," he said, opening the door with a flourish, as if he was opening the doors to some sort of palace as opposed to the ruined brick mess that looked ready to collapse at any minute. "The boss is waiting upstairs."

The entrance hall was covered in dust, cobwebs and filth, all dark wood and brass. It looked to have been some sort of bank, with barred counters and a large metal door behind them. A central staircase would lead them upstairs, it seemed.

"Who's your boss?" Link asked as he pulled off his hood, relieved to be out of the rain. It was a pity his boots had already filled with water—he would have appreciated having dry feet when meeting someone who, as the boy claimed, would be paying him an exorbitant amount of money by the end of the night.

"Can't say," the boy replied, shaking his head, spraying filthy water in every direction.

"He's not...a criminal, is he?" Link said, suddenly worried that he'd accepted an invitation to some sort of illegal activity. He was desperate for money, but not _that_ desperate. His parents would _kill_ him if they found out he earned the funds through less-than-honest means.

The boy looked offended at that, frowning. "'Course he isn't!" he exclaimed. "Do I look like someone who'd work for someone like that?!"

Link wanted to say yes, but shook his head instead. He'd at least hear this boss out before he decided to leave or not. This was his only lead, after all, and he'd be a fool to walk away from the sum involved before even finding out what he'd be doing for them.

"Good," the boy said with a huff. "Now come on, he hates waiting."

The boy lit an oil lamp that stood on a small table by the stairs, and began leading Link upwards. The wooden steps creaked loudly and threateningly, as if they were going to break beneath his feet. It was dark as pitch inside the building, and Link could practically feel the shadows creeping in from all directions. He'd never been afraid of the dark out in the country, but there was something oppressive about the darkness of this place—it was almost sinister...though he had a feeling it was simply his anxiety and worry seeping in and colouring his perception. It was just an old bank. What could possibly haunt such a mundane place?

"Password," another child's voice said from above as they reached the second landing and began ascending to the third floor.

"May the lens of truth show you the path to righteousness," the boy replied, not breaking his stride.

"You found someone then?"

The second child was a girl, about the same age as the boy. Her hair was a tangled mess of dark (or simply dirty) blonde tresses, and her clothing fared no better than the boy's. She, too, seemed unusually healthy for a street rat. Link had a feeling they were simply playing characters in some sort of bizarre play, presumably of this boss of theirs authorship.

"I did," the boy replied. "He looks strong, just like the boss wanted."

The girl nodded and turned to knock on the door she was evidently guarding. For a split-second, Link could see the handle of a dagger sticking out of her belt, but the dirty remains of her tunic quickly covered it. It was a complicated rhythm she rapped out on the ageing wood, but it was evidently correct seeing as someone on the inside said "Enter."

"The boss will see you now, mister," the girl said sweetly, opening the door and stepping aside. "Do hurry, he doesn't like being kept waiting."

Unnerved by the two children, Link did as he was told, quickly going through the open doorway. The door slammed shut behind him, and he could hear the fake street rats chattering excitedly on the other side.

Unlike the rest of the building, this room was comfortably warm and well lit. Oil-lamps aided the roaring fire in both heating and lighting up the office-like chamber. A wall-to-wall carpet of a clearly foreign, yet familiar-looking design covered the floor. He felt guilty for trampling on it with his muddy boots. Paintings lined the wall, most of them portraits of people Link had no idea who was, or historical events he'd never heard of.

"Come in," said the room's sole occupant. He was standing with his back to Link, fiddling with something on the low, wide table in front of the fire. "You're the one Eren told me about?"

Eren was presumably the boy. "I suppose I am," Link replied as he came a little closer, wishing to be as near the fire as possible. He was soaked to the bone and starting to shiver now that he wasn't forced to chase Eren.

"Name?" the man (or was he?) he assumed to be the boss asked.

"Link."

"No last name?"

"I'm not a noble or a bastard," Link replied.

"Where are you from, Link?"

"Ordon, a small—"

"Farming village south of here, close to the Lost Woods," the boss said, nodding to himself. "Yes, I've heard of it. What are you doing in Castle Town, Link?"

"That...is not really any of your business, begging your pardon," Link replied.

"Fair enough," the boss said. His hands never stopped moving, and Link could hear the sound of greased metal sliding against metal. He'd heard sounds like that before. It still made the bad memories appear to his mind's eye, no matter how much he tried to fight them down. "Though based on your readiness to follow Eren here despite how little information he provided on the job apart from the fee you would be paid for it...well, that's just it, isn't it? Money. You came to Castle Town to acquire as much of it as possible. Presumably because of the poor harvest this year?"

"Who are you?" Link said, narrowing his eyes.

The boss paused, wiping his hands on a soiled cloth before turning to face him. The lower half of his face was obscured by a cowl that crept up from his waistcoat, his head covered by an elegant tricorne hat. His eyes gave him away immediately, however, and suddenly the design of the carpet became instantly clear to Link.

"You're...a nomad," he breathed, surprised.

The boss nodded slowly. "Ye-es," he said, drawing out the word as he crossed his arms and leaned against the table. He was wearing dark dress pants, a white shirt and a black waistcoat. A long overcoat hung from a nearby chair; it looked quite well worn, unlike the rest of his outfit. He was slender, perhaps a little shorter than Link. His voice seemed young, and there were no wrinkles on what little skin Link could see. "It's funny how we're called nomads when, in fact, my people roamed these lands long before yours even arrived here...and we never even left in the first place, despite how much you've tried to make us." He narrowed his eyes, just like Link. "If we are to work together, I'd prefer it if you called me what I am: Sheikah."

Link blinked, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He bowed his head, feeling like an idiot. "I didn't mean any offence, master Sheikah," he said. "I was simply surprised, and—"

"I take it I am the first Sheikah you've ever met," the boss finished. "Yes, I suppose few of my people have ever ventured near Ordon, much less visited the village itself." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. If all goes well, we will never meet again after tonight, and you will return to your village a rich man. Does that sound agreeable?"

"It does, sir," Link replied, nodding.

"Good. Then, Eren has asked you...?"

"If I could lift heavy objects, if I had a strong stomach, and if I wasn't afraid of getting my hands dirty," Link recited. "Yes, yes, and no."

"Good," the Sheikah said, his red eyes flashing in the firelight. "Though it would appear my little assistant forgot to ask you the most important question of them all: Can you keep a secret?"

"A secret?" Link said. "What secret?"

The boss rolled his eyes. "I don't think I have to point out the clandestinity of your arrival here for you to understand that the job I am hiring you for requires secrecy...or do I?" Sighing, he looked Link up and down, taking in every detail. It made Link feel oddly vulnerable. "I cannot stress the importance of this: Whatever I tell you, whatever you see on this night...you must never tell another soul."

"If it's so secret," Link said, "why are you hiring random people off the street?"

"Because I am desperate," the boss willingly admitted. "This is a rather unexpected and, therefore, rushed job. I made sure to have Eren and Nikal keep a lookout for someone from out of town. Someone who, when finished, would have no need to stay, would immediately go home with their pockets full of rupees. Someone who felt no need to...flap their lips. Are you someone like that, Link? Will you be able to keep the details of this job under tight wraps?"

"If it's not illegal," Link answered. "I won't help you commit any crimes."

The Sheikah chuckled at that. "I can assure you, this job is far from illegal. On the contrary, it has been sanctioned by...the highest of authorities. So, can I count on your silence?"

Link hesitated. This was his last chance to back out. He had a feeling that, once the Sheikah had given him the details, he would not be allowed to leave before the job was done. "The money?" he asked.

"Do you require an advance?"

"Think of it as...proof that you're not trying to trick me."

The Sheikah nodded. "Of course. Here." He opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a heavy pouch, throwing it to Link in a practiced, graceful move. "Half now, half upon completion. Should be more than enough to keep your village going for two or three years of consecutively poor harvests."

Link tipped a few of the precious gems into the palm of his hand, surprised at the clarity and weight of the gems. These weren't the sort of rupees that were used for trade in Ordon and the surrounding areas. True professionals had cut them, and that spoke volumes of whom this Sheikah was working for.

"These are..." Link trailed off.

"Cut by the finest jeweller in the city," the boss finished. "You will not find more precious stones in all of Hyrule. Of that I assure you. You will be given the rest when the job is done."

There was no question about it, and Link could already tell that, added up, the money for this job would keep Ordon fed and happy for quite longer than three years. He had no choice—he _had_ to accept. "I'm in," he said.

"Good," the Sheikah said, turning back to his table, resuming his work. "Please, come closer. Have you any fighting experience?"

"I have."

"That isn't pub brawls."

"Plenty. I've been fighting off bandit attacks since I was fourteen."

"Ever killed someone?"

"Once. I had no choice, though, he was going to hurt—"

"I do not judge," the Sheikah said. "And, frankly, it is preferable that you have some experience with killing. The happy news is that we won't be fighting people on this job. Tell me, can you wield a sword?"

"I—"

"Or perhaps you prefer firearms? I have a few extra pistols I can lend you—"

"I don't like...powder," Link interrupted him.

The Sheikah must have sensed his tone, because he simply pointed to a chest in the corner of the room, close to the fire. "There is a pair of blades in that chest. Try swinging them for a bit. Also, there are clothes. I suggest you change."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?" Link asked as he withdrew the first blade from the chest. Its design was simple, but the weapon was well made. The balance was quite good, but the blade itself was far heavier than it should have been for something of its size. The metal gleamed in the firelight. "And why is this sword so heavy?"

"You're soaked from the rain," the Sheikah said matter-of-factly. "I imagine you want to get warm and dry before we head out again. Not to mention they'll provide you with more protection than that tunic, and as for the sword...well, it's heavy because it's made of silver. Makes the blade soft, so you'll have to make sure your aim is true, and your strikes count."

Link studied the sword, watching the Sheikah out of the corner of his eye. A silver sword? What in the world would he need that for? "I thought you said we weren't fighting anyone?"

"I said we weren't fighting _people_ ," the Sheikah said as he finished loading the last pistol on the table. "We are, however, going to do a little hunting."

"Hunting? Hunting what?"

"You'll see."

That was all the Sheikah was going to say about the matter, it seemed, so Link busied himself with changing into the outfit left for him in the chest. The underclothes seemed rather run-of-the-mill, a simple white shirt and black trousers with braces. The overclothes, however, was not something that would pass unnoticed on the street. A thick, leather overcoat that stopped just above his boots, with small metal plates stitched onto it in strategic places. The collar went so high as to cover his nose, much like the Sheikah's cowl. There was also a hat that, when worn, only left a narrow strip through which he could see. Leather gloves completed the outfit.

"It fits you?" the Sheikah asked, looking him up and down once more. Despite the multiple, thick layers of clothing, Link still felt vulnerable under that gaze. It was no wonder the stories always said that a Sheikah could see one's very soul...and judge it.

"It does," Link said, moving around for a bit to get a feel for the outfit. It was lighter than expected, and he maintained a full range of motion, which was a surprise considering the material. "Why the collar, though?"

"Things might get a bit...messy," the Sheikah said, inclining his head slightly. "Let's leave it at that."

"Hm." Link grunted, and picked up the second blade, which was a normal steel one. Slightly shorter and thinner than the silver sword, he found himself more comfortable with its weight and feel. "This is a good sword," he said.

"It will probably not be necessary, but it never hurts to carry proper steel on these streets."

"So what are we hunting?"

"Do you know what a lycanthrope is, Link?"

He'd heard that word before, but he was unsure of its definition. The older men and women in the tavern at Ordon tended to go quiet whenever they heard it, however, so he assumed it could only be something bad. "Not as such," he admitted. "I know they're bad, though."

The Sheikah paused. He'd put his pistols into various holsters on his person, and was in the process of adding several small knives and daggers to hidden pockets. Link wondered just how many weapons he would be carrying. "They're only as bad as they choose to be," he said, picking up a long, curved blade, which he sheathed on his back. "Though sometimes they cannot help it."

"And we're hunting a bad one tonight?"

"Indeed." The Sheikah turned to him, regarding him closely. "You seem rather unconcerned with how little information I am giving you...and the fact that I am arming you."

"You're not paying me to ask questions," Link said with a shrug. "As long as we're not murdering someone..."

"I see...well, that is a reasonable position."

"Did you want me to be suspicious?"

"No, it is just very rare that someone would readily agree to work with a Sheikah without taking...precautions."

Link knew exactly what he was talking about. There were signs that could be made, symbols to carve into doorways and such, which supposedly kept the Sheikah away, warding you against their "evil" influence. Link had never met a Sheikah before, and while he felt unnerved by the very intense looks he kept receiving from the other man, he did not feel the need to ward himself either. Besides, as always, he needed the money. He couldn't take the chance on insulting his employer.

"What good is a gesture against a pistol?" Link answered, gesturing towards the one hanging on the Sheikah's right hip.

"Hmph, good point. This certainly bodes well for our cooperation."

They spent the next few minutes checking their equipment for the last time. The Sheikah managed to convince Link to take at least one pistol, though Link had a feeling it would remain in its holster behind his back. Just knowing it was back there was enough to make him feel on edge. However, it was apparently just meant as a backup, something to fall back on in case the two swords on his back weren't enough. Then they checked each other's outfits, which felt a bit odd...

"It is best to expose as little skin as possible, just in case," the Sheikah informed Link as he tugged on the straps and buckles of his overcoat, ensuring the metal plates were fastened properly. "That, and hide our identities. It is a thankless job we will be performing tonight."

"People know about it?"

"Some do, and while most of the citizens of this city will be in their beds about now, there will always be vagrants. They tend to have loose lips. If my sources are correct, this particular incident has so far remained hidden from the public eye, but it is only a matter of time before it makes its presence known. I would prefer to get ahead of it."

They left the office a minute later, and the children immediately stood to attention.

"Boss," Nikal said, studying them both. "Clothes suit him."

"That will be all for tonight," the Sheikah said. "Go home and get some sleep."

"Got it, boss," Eren said. They left together, shoving and laughing at each other. Link gave the Sheikah a questioning glance (which was mostly hidden by his collar and hat), to which he simply shrugged.

"In my position, I need eyes at every level of society," he said as they descended the stairs. "I pay them well. The clothes and such was their idea, and I have to admit it's working. No one pays attention to filthy street children."

"I see..."

"And I forbid them from putting themselves at unnecessary risk."

"If you say so."

The Sheikah looked at him. "You do not approve?"

"I do of the paying them well bit," Link said. "The rest, not so much. What if I weren't...who I am? What if I'd tried to hurt Eren when he led me to you?"

To Link's surprise, the Sheikah chuckled at that. "Believe me when I say that Eren would never have tried to hire someone like that. And if you'd tried something, he'd leave you for dead in the nearest alley, your gut opened and displayed for all the world to see. The boy is wicked fast with that knife of his. Nikal is much the same, though her patience is quite shorter than his."

They stepped out into the rain, and Link was instantly glad of the coat, which the water simply slid off of.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Not far. Further into the slums."

"Hey?"

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"...Sheik."

"Sheik the Sheikah?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Not at all."

"...good."

* * *

Link had been to Castle Town several times before. He'd accompany his father into the city to purchase things that could not be found in Ordon or the surrounding villages, as well as sell some of their wares. However, their visits had always been confined to the mercantile part of Castle Town, where the buildings were well maintained, the streets cobbled and orderly. People were mostly polite there, cheerful and happy.

This was not true for the old part of the city, the part that had never truly been brought into the current times. Here, the buildings were dilapidated and falling apart, the streets little more than muddy fields, and the people...well, the few they ran into had very little to say (save for a few choice words about Sheik's ancestry, which he seemingly took in stride), nor were they particularly helpful. One even took a swing at them, but he was far too drunk to remain standing and plopped facedown into the mud. Link rolled him over to ensure he could breathe, and quickly caught back up with Sheik.

"They don't seem to like us very much," Link muttered.

"They hate me on pure principle," Sheik said with a shrug. "You, they hate because of the outfit. They know what you are."

"And that is? A country bumpkin?"

"A hunter."

"Hunter?"

"It is a long and complicated story. I might tell you later, if you're still alive."

Suddenly, the idea to work for Sheik didn't seem like such a good one. He was in too deep now, though, and he'd given his word. Link was many things, but he never went back on his words. So he simply steeled himself and followed the Sheikah further into the crumbling labyrinth of ancient stone and wood buildings. They walked for at least an hour, and the further they went the worse the surroundings became. They were getting close to the outer walls, the parts that were beginning to crumble into the marshland to the east of the city. There were no more people to be seen—they were either taking shelter in their homes, or this part of the city was simply abandoned.

He was so caught up in watching the surroundings that he nearly ran into Sheik when he simply stopped.

"There," the Sheikah said, pointing at a partially collapsed wooden building. Judging by the size and layout, it might have once housed a large stable. The west wing was a pile of rubble, but the rest of the building seemed intact save for the warped and worm-eaten wood. "Our quarry is in there."

"How do you know?"

"The smell."

How Sheik could smell anything through his cowl, Link didn't know, but he did not ask either. There was no telling how strong a Sheikah's senses were. All Link could smell was piss, shit, and rot.

"Final check," Sheik continued, patting his weapons and ensuring the powder in his pistols hadn't gotten wet. "And your final chance to leave."

Link glared at him. "I've taken your money. I'm staying."

"Good to hear."

They stood just beneath an awning, and Sheik lit a small, spherical oil lamp and hung it on his belt.

"I would rather not trip and split my skull on the floor," he explained. "Stay close to me for now."

"So this...lycanthrope," Link said as they slowly stepped inside the main chamber of the stable—a cavernous room filled with dozens of dozens of booths made to hold at least two horses each. The driving rain rattled on the roof, turning into a deafening racket. "Is it dangerous?"

"Very," Sheik said. "It has already killed five people. I've been able to contain the news so far, but sooner or later it will move into a more populated part of the city, and there is no telling how many will die before we can put it down. Had I more time, I would have hired a larger, more experienced group, but..."

"You didn't, so I'm it."

"Yes, but you seem capable of swinging a sword, at least, and that is all I need, really."

"So I'm bait?"

"A distraction," Sheik said, shaking his head. "Something to draw the creature's attention while I do most of the work."

"That...is not comforting."

"Wasn't meant to be."

Link made to reply, but then there was a sound. The sound of something scraping against the stone floor, like nails on a chalkboard, and a low, rumbling growl that set Link felt in the pit of his stomach, filled the stable, drowning out the sound of the rain against the roof. Something moved in the darkness...and then it was gone. Sheik drew the first pistol, and Link followed suit with the silver sword.

"What exactly _is_ a lycanthrope?" Link hissed.

"It depends on your perspective," Sheik whispered back. "Some say they are wolves, others that they are men...but in reality, they are both. An unholy mix of the two, cursed and deformed, and filled with an all-consuming need to kill."

"You said they are only as bad as they choose to be."

"Some are able to control themselves, others aren't," the Sheikah said, as if that explained anything. "It all depends on their strength of will."

"Where are they from?"

"They can be found in most parts of the world—it is a sickness, a disease. No one knows whence it came, but it has plagued the world for centuries, or even millennia."

Link paused, hearing movement to his left. "Then how come this is the first I've ever heard of it outside of rumours in a tavern?"

Sheik moved so that they were standing side-by-side, his gun aimed into the darkness. "We've tried to keep the condition's existence hidden. The world is scary enough as it is—what good will adding yet another thing to fear do? Luckily, they rarely venture into heavily populated areas, so they are relatively easy to contain."

"Except this one," Link muttered.

"Except this one," Sheik agreed.

As if on cue, the creature leapt from the darkness. To Link, it appeared as nothing but a grey blur and a whirlwind of teeth and claws. Its eyes glowed a pale blue, meeting Link's for a moment in which he saw nothing but malignant hatred and bestial savagery. And then the world turned upside down as he was flung through the air. Something raked at his back, but the tough leather of his coat held firm. The breath was knocked out of him when he came to an abrupt, yet oddly soft stop. He'd landed in a pile of old hay.

"Urgh..."

His vision swam a little, but he could see the vague outline of the creature in the light of Sheik's lantern, which was moving quickly and gracefully as the Sheikah dodged the lycanthrope's swipes and bites. There was a flash, and a deafening roar, and the creature roared, jumping backwards. The smell of gunpowder filled the room, overpowering the smell of decaying flesh that surely came from the creature.

"Get up and fight!" Sheik shouted, tossing his gun aside and drawing his sword with his right hand.

He climbed to his feet and adjusted his grip on the silver sword, which he'd never let go of. For the first time, he got a good look at the beast.

He understood why people thought it was a wolf—the head certainly _looked_ like that of a wolf...but the fur was all mangy and patchy, the skin beneath covered in welts and scars and bloody cuts. But that was where the resemblance also ended. Its arms and legs were human-like, but far too long and gangly, covered in leaking sores. Each arm terminated in large hands with fingers longer than Link's forearm, and razor-sharp claws easily capable of disembowelling a man dotted the end of each. It moved nothing like a wolf either—it almost seemed clumsy, as if the human-like limbs confused it...but it was more than willing to ignore that in favour of pouncing on the closest target...which was Link at the moment.

He was barely able to move out of the creature's way and aimed a clumsy swing at it with the heavy silver sword, which it easily dodged, breathing out in a staccato pattern that reminded him of laughter, as if the creature was mocking him for his bad aim. Gritting his teeth, Link attacked again, able to control where his weapon ended up now that he'd gotten more used to the weight.

Another shot rang out in the dark stable, and the creature howled as its side erupted with blood. It turned its misshapen to regard Sheik, and made to pounce, but then Link's blade cut into its back.

The creature recoiled with a hiss, a small wisp of smoke rising from the cut made by the sword. Link's eyes widened. Was that what silver did? Burn the unholy creature?

Sheik joined the fray then, throwing one of the small daggers into the creature's shin and swiping at it with his sword. "Keep it on its toes, don't let it recover!"

Link did so, going on the offensive and attacking in tandem with Sheik. They quickly found a rhythm, and the beast was forced backwards into a corner. It growled and roared, but was unable to avoid the weaving, pointy swords that kept raking over its skin, opening wound after wound...until it tried to leap high, hoping to attack from above. Desperation, or fear perhaps, drove it now...and that was why the jump was so badly calculated (if it was even capable of calculating anything at all)...and why it suddenly found itself impaled through its distended gut on a silver blade, which burned like a white-hot brand, its entire shape desperately trying to get itself off, claws raking wildly through the air in every direction.

Link gasped when he felt those very claws catching on his coat...and cutting through. Fire erupted in his side, and he threw himself backwards, trying to get out the whirlwind's way.

"Enough!" Sheik shouted, bringing his curved blade down on the creature's neck. It twisted aside, so it only opened a vein...but it was not enough to immediately calm the wolf-beast down. It sank to its knees, clutching at the gushing wound in an oddly human-like pose. And now Link saw why some would believe it to be a man...

"Link, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Link answered, touching his side and paling when his hand came away slick with blood.

"Good." Sheik wasted no time in bringing his sword down once more, and this time the creature's head came off, neck sheared clean through. The beast's roar was cut off immediately, its body collapsing in a pathetic heap, twitching. "We were lucky," Sheik said, panting. "It was sick...weak with hunger. How on earth it managed to kill so many people without getting caught is..."

"Sheik!"

It happened in the space of two heartbeats. There was movement in the darkness behind Sheik, and it was only thanks to the lantern, which had come off his belt and was lying on the ground in a pile of hay, that Link spotted it. A second pair of glowing eyes, and a mouth filled with jagged teeth opening, a hiss escaping as the second beast made its move. Link couldn't move fast enough, lying on the floor as he was, to draw his steel sword and attack...but his hand didn't go for the sword handle. It went for the pistol in his belt. He drew, aimed, and fired. The ball slammed into the creature's head mid-air, and it crumpled, crashing to the floor with nary a sound. Sheik jumped, for a moment believing the shot was meant for him, but then the wolf landed at his feet, which had him stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over the limbs of the first one.

"Goddesses!" he exclaimed.

Their panting breaths, along with the driving rain outside, was all that could be heard for several minutes as both hunters tried to make sense of what had just happened. Sheik was the first to recover, crouching down by Link's side. Link's fingers were gripping the pistol so tightly he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to let it go, but Sheik gently pried it from him, setting it down on the floor.

"For someone who's clearly not fond of firearms," Sheik said, "you've got one hell of an aim." He glanced back at the second beast, which looked healthier and stronger than the first one. "Right through the eye and into the brain. Difficult shot to make with a stationary target. With one flying through the air...nearly impossible. I owe you my life—thank you."

"Wasn't...really thinking," Link admitted hesitatingly. "I just...did it."

"Good reflexes, then, and I am still alive because of them." He pulled his hat off, revealing his blonde, shoulder-length tresses, and yanked down his cowl, revealing a clean-shaven, youthful face. Link was surprised to see that the Sheikah was so young, probably near his own age. And...utterly handsome. Sheik grinned widely, which made his face practically glow. "Thank you, Link. Really." He then glanced down, hissing at the blood that coated Link's side. "We'll have to treat that as soon as possible. Where are you staying?"

"At an inn near the water gate," Link said, groaning when he tried to move. Sheik helped him up, and he was surprised at how unsteady he was on his feet. "The Drum, or something like that."

"I'm familiar with it. Let's go." Link was surprised at how easily the other boy managed to steady him as they walked, lithe as he was. They only paused so Sheik could use his broken lantern to light a pile of hay close to the dead beasts' on fire. "We always burn our prey, as a precaution. Removes evidence."

"And limits the spread?"

"Hopefully."

* * *

 

"Here, let me—"

"I can do it myself, you know."

"True, but you saved my life, and this is easier."

Link tried his best to relax as Sheik helped him undress, mindful of the wounds in his side. The beast's claws hadn't gone as deep as he feared, but the scratches still bled freely. Sheik dabbed at them with clean cloth he'd procured from the innkeeper, trying to get a good look at the damage. Link couldn't help but once again feel vulnerable as Sheik examined him, his gaze no less intense than before. It didn't help that, upon pulling down his cowl, Sheik had revealed himself to be one of the most attractive men Link had ever had the good fortune to meet. He just hoped it wouldn't cause a...situation.

It was going to be the festival all over again, and he wasn't sure if he'd try as hard to stop himself this time.

"Well, it doesn't look too bad, actually," Sheik said, throwing the bloody cloth aside and fetching the small bottle of alcohol he'd, once again, gotten from the innkeeper. "We'll have to disinfect, though. Goddesses know what kind of filth those things are carrying around. Plus, we don't know exactly what causes lycanthropy in the first place, so...better safe than sorry, right?"

Link gave him a look, shivering slightly in his half-naked state. The room was cold, and the fire Sheik had lit upon their arrival had yet to start heating the stone. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence, you know."

Sheik grinned slightly, wetting another piece of clean cloth with the alcohol. "You're handling things quite well, actually. Country bumpkin one moment, hunter of beasts the next. A Sheikah's saviour...I think a minor plague scare is well within your limits at this point. If it helps, I am...ninety-nine per cent certain the plague isn't transmitted this way."

"What makes you so certain?"

Sheik paused, and carefully put the cloth and alcohol down. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and lifted his shirt slightly, revealing a jagged scar that could only have been left behind by claws. "I've been on the receiving end of such things before," he told Link, smiling. "I'm still quite healthy, and my hair grows at its usual rate. No, I'm fairly certain it's transmitted in some other way. Perhaps in water?" He shrugged. "Research is still being done on it."

"By who?"

Sheik clicked his tongue. "Ah, ah, ah, I have to keep some secrets. You're not one of us, after all."

Link was almost disappointed by that statement, which surprised even him. Even though he was no lover of violence or killing, fighting those wolf-men had filled him with more excitement than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He wasn't sure if it was because of the sheer insanity of what he'd been doing that night, or if it was because of the...the rather unique camaraderie he felt with Sheik. Or perhaps it was all because of hindsight, now that he'd seen Sheik's face, and gotten to know him a little better, and...wanting to be near him.

Fuck, this really was the festival all over again.

"How does one join the hunters, then?"

Sheik blinked, clearly not expecting that question. "Well, by being born into a Sheikah clan."

"...oh..." That was _definitely_ disappointing.

"Though..."

His mood rose a little.

"...from time to time, we employ certain...contractors. Proven men and women who have shown themselves more than capable of handling the job." He started cleaning the wound, which had Link's side burning from the strong disinfectant. "In this part of the world, it's rather rare, but...well, I suppose tonight was an exception." He looked up at Link with a calculating expression. "But it would mean having to leave your old life behind. It's a commitment...and, as you saw earlier tonight, dangerous. Lycanthropes are the most common beasts we hunt. There are far more dangerous ones out there. You might have had beginner's luck, and the next hunt might be your last. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

When explained to him like that, the life did not seem particularly glamorous...but one look at Sheik was enough to convince him it was worth it. That probably wasn't a good thing, being willing to risk his life just to be near someone he fancied, someone he'd met just a few hours ago, someone who might not fancy him back...and yet...

His parents would be outraged, but the good thing about having so many cousins was that they wouldn't be missing his hands at the farm, and given the money he'd earned tonight, maybe they wouldn't be too outraged at losing him to the Sheikah...

Eugh, his mind was reeling.

"But that is not a decision to make lightly, or hastily," Sheik said, not at all aware of the thoughts zooming around in Link's head. "I suggest sleeping on it, perhaps even going home and giving it a few weeks, or months... If you're still interested, you know where to find me." He inspected his handiwork. "No stitches will be necessary, but you'll have to clean and re-bandage the wound at least twice a day."

He gently bandaged Link's wound and helped him re-dress, discarding the filthy shirt for a clean one from Link's pack by the bed. He then put his bloodstained coat back on, replacing his cowl (much to Link's disappointment) and weapons. Link looked at the silver and steel swords leaning against the wall. Sheik followed his gaze.

"Keep them," he said. "Even if you do not decide to join us, I'm certain they will come in handy for bandit attacks. Well, perhaps not the silver one, but at least you'll know what situation it _might_ be useful in." He shook his head when Link tried to hand him back the spent pistol. "Keep that as well. Regardless of your feelings about gunpowder, it is a powerful tool of intimidation. You don't even have to load it for it to be frightening."

Link tossed the spent gun onto the bed, giving it a glare. True, it had definitely been a lifesaver that night, but...he still hated the damn thing.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"I have to report in about our success," Sheik said, nodding. "There are strict procedures to follow. Even this," he said, gesturing to Link's side and the room in general, "is a deviation from the schedule I usually follow."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologise." The corners of Sheik's eyes crinkled as he smiled under his cowl. "You saved my life. Sheikah honour supersedes procedure."

"So you only did this out of obligation to your honour?" Link grinned. "I'm disappointed."

"My honour," Sheik said, nodding. "And...well..." He looked like he was about to say something, but seemed to change his mind halfway through. "Gratitude. To a new friend."

Link held out his hand, and Sheik shook it tentatively. "Friends, then. I'm sure the world has seen stranger things."

"True."

And then Sheik was gone, leaving Link with a great deal to think about. He went to the window, which overlooked the street by the inn's entrance. He watched Sheik emerge from the inn, pause, look up at the window (because of course he'd be observant enough to note which window belonged to Link's room), and give him a friendly wave. Two small shadows detached themselves from the closest alley and joined the Sheikah as he walked away in the rain, presumably being assaulted by questions from Eren and Nikal.

"Friends," he murmured. "And...maybe something more?"

Assuming he'd be allowed to join, of course.

He hoped so. Farming just...wasn't for him anymore.


	2. The Rider

The hallway was long and uncarpeted, which made his booted footsteps echo on the stone floor. It was late, and there were only a few footmen about save for the guards, flitting about their duties. They were used to the late nights, it seemed...but not a Sheikah decked out in full hunting gear. The pistols in particular made them give him sidelong glances, and he briefly considered telling them they weren't even loaded, but decided not to. It kept their attention off the rough-spun bag he was carrying in his left hand, and the fewer who knew of the content's existence, the better.

He passed by dozens of identical doors before spotting his goal, frowning a little when he recognised the men guarding it. They liked being difficult. They gave Sheik mistrustful glances as he approached the door, fingers tightening around the handles of their swords. They looked ready to block his way, but he rolled his eyes at them.

"Identify yourself," one said.

"Again?" he asked, pulling down his cowl to reveal his face, giving them a cheeky smile. "How many Sheikah pass through this place on a given day?"

"Too many," the guard replied, sneering.

"Clever."

"Go inside before we throw you out," the other said. "Fucking nomads..."

"'Preciate it, gents," Sheik said, tipping his hat at them and stepping through the door they deliberately didn't open for him. The room within was carpeted and warm, the walls covered in sound-dampening wallpaper and ancient tapestries. A tiled stove stood in the corner, heating the stone wall. A pair of oil lamps gently bathed the dark, wooden furniture in warm light, giving the room a cosy atmosphere.

Cosy, that is, until he saw more that more than one person was occupying the office. He gave the slightest of starts, composed himself, and bowed. "Your Majesty," he greeted the woman behind the desk. He then inclined his head to the one in the chair in front of it. "Master."

"Sheik," the princess said, nodding gracefully at him. "Welcome back."

"Nephew," the other woman said, her silver hair almost twinkling in the lamplight. "You're late."

Sheik regarded the two for a moment, wondering when his aunt had last deigned to come to the capital and mingle with the commoners. Two years, surely? Even longer since she'd come to see _him_. Not that he minded, though. Their relationship was a distant one at best, and while he certainly loved her, as a good nephew should, he didn't _like_ her very much. The training he'd undergone had seen to that—it was impossible to like someone after they put you through a regime like that. It had kept _him_ alive, though, and that counted for something. Impa was the best hunter on the continent, and it was no wonder she'd been chosen as both clan leader _and_ Master Hunter when Sheik's grandfather had passed.

Her outfit reflected her position—dark, nearly black leather, richly decorated with silver studs and embroided Sheikah eyes. Her cane, which she used to alleviate her slight limp, was nothing but smoke and mirrors. Hidden within the black-painted wood was a thin silver blade, ready to slide out at the press of a button. That was the only weapon she needed or chose to carry...at least these days. She'd been fearsome with her great sword during training, that was certain.

"There were prying eyes and listening ears around the site," Sheik explained, a slight pit opening in his stomach. The _one_ time he breaks protocol, his aunt decides to pay the city a visit. It was probably no coincidence she was here _now_. Her little birds had probably whispered everything there was to know about the lycanthropes into her ears, and now she was here to give him a hiding for it. "I had to be careful."

"You did not collect the heads right away," Impa said, touching the scar under her left eye. "Sloppy."

"The beasts are dead?" Princess Zelda asked, barely taking her eyes off the papers on her desk, her pen dancing across one of the pages, some sort of coroner's report. Presumably one of the victims'. Only briefly did she glance up at him, regarding him through her thin, gold-framed spectacles with a thoughtful look on her face. There was a cup of tea on the desk. Cold. Zelda kept her hours long, and regularly had to be reminded to eat and drink. That used to be Sheik's job.

"They are, your grace."

"Excellent. Show me."

Impa cleared some of the towering piles of paper away, leaving enough room for Sheik to plonk the bag onto the desk. The skulls within clacked against each other, and he carefully pulled each one out, displaying them to the princess and his aunt. The fire had burned the flesh away, leaving nothing but blackened bone and empty eyes, jagged and missing teeth set in unsettling grins.

"This one was dying already," Impa noted, tapping the largest skull with a gloved finger. "Bone deformation, missing teeth...sores and pus?"

"Plenty," Sheik confirmed.

"Hm, interesting. The sickness has reached Hyrule, then."

"It would seem so."

"The sickness?" Zelda asked, looking between the two. She reached out, hesitantly touching the smaller skull of the healthy lycanthrope. Her eyes lit up unsettlingly when she did, all morbid fascination. Young Zelda had wanted to be a hunter, after hearing Sheik and Impa's stories. Her father had put a swift and merciless end to _those_ dreams, but that only served to fuel the young princess' desires to work closely with the hunters, which was unusual for a ruler.

"We don't know what it is," Sheik said. "Only that it slowly kills lycanthropes, and does not affect us in the slightest."

"Surely that is a good thing? Makes the job easier?"

"It would," Impa said, tapping the deformed skull once more. "If it didn't drive them insane. It seems to increase their hunger, which in turn causes them to seek out more populated areas. Causes more deaths. Their behaviour changes in every aspect, including their attack patterns. It's harder to predict their movements, which in turn increases the risk when hunting them. I had a suspicion the lycanthrope in Castle Town was afflicted, due to its presence here, but..." She looked at the other skull. "Clearly that wasn't the only reason."

"It had a friend," Sheik said, trying not to think back to the moment he'd realised he almost lost his head to the second beast he'd completely failed to notice. "Younger, stronger...not afflicted."

"It caught you by surprise."

He resisted the urge to glare at his aunt for pointing out the truth to the princess. It was her right, of course, to point out his mistakes. A sloppy hunter would soon be a dead hunter. Still, it made his cheeks burn to be admonished in front of the princess, who'd been like an older sister to him for six years. Especially after...after...

"It did," he admitted. "But my p...associate managed to take it down." He ran a finger along the ridge of the smaller skull, feeling the edge of the hole where the ball had exited the beast's head. He hoped Impa hadn't heard his near-slip. "Clean through the eye."

"Associate?" Impa asked, homing right in on the bit he hoped she'd missed. "The young man from Ordon."

"Another hunter?" Zelda asked, excitement creeping into her voice. She was clearly hoping for another story.

"A farmer," Impa corrected her flatly. "A nobody."

"I needed assistance," Sheik argued. "Your assignment didn't give me much time to prepare. I swore him to secrecy—"

"And he will keep his word, I imagine, until the sixth round at the tavern one night, revealing everything we have tried to keep under wraps for centuries," his aunt continued, shaking her head. "The orphans are bad enough, but randomly recruiting a stranger off the street?"

"Who cares what a bunch of farmers have to say about anything?" Sheik said, his cheeks positively burning now. "They'll all think he's trying to impress them with tales from the big city!"

"You gave him a sword," Impa said calmly. "Actually, you gave him two, one of them silver. If even _one_ person in that village recognises it for what it is..." She left the sentence hanging, the implication clear.

"We are not purging the village," Sheik growled. "They are not _that_ important."

"Not that it is any of my business," Zelda said, looking between them with a dark look, "but I'd rather you didn't purge anyone in _my_ kingdom." She glared at Impa. "Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, your grace," Impa said, dipping her head respectfully. "My apologies. However, this leaves my nephew with a conundrum: how is he to ensure this farmer of his remains silent? I'm certain he is a man of his word, but in my experience words are relatively cheap...easily bought, and not necessarily with coin. Ordon is regularly exposed to attacks by bandits from the south, the sort that enjoys... _playing_ with their victims." She looked at him. "Can you honestly say your farmer wouldn't crack under the pressure and pain?"

"He wouldn't let himself get caught in the first place," Sheik said sourly, his tone almost that of a petulant child. "I saw him wielding that sword—he's a natural. That shot...not even _you_ could have made that, Master."

Impa shook her head. "Forgive me if I do not put much trust in an unknown, nephew. My little birds are keeping an eye on him for now, but I suggest you make the trip to Ordon and make it absolutely certain he understands why it behoves him to never reveal the secrets he learned that night."

Sheik fought the urge to sigh, nodding in a way he hoped was dejected. He'd wanted to pay Link a visit anyway, but if Impa realised that going to Ordon was something he _wanted_...

"I will leave at dawn," he said. "If it please you, your grace," he added, looking to Zelda, who nodded regally.

"Certainly," she replied. "Though I order you to be careful."

"I always am."

He made to leave the office, but his aunt's cane stopped him. She gave him a serious look. "That goes double for me, nephew. You're one of the finest hunters we have in this part of the world. It would be stupid for you to die to a bandit attack...or a farmer's pitchfork."

"Don't worry, aunt," he said, pushing the cane aside. "I'll make sure not to embarrass you."

He slammed the door slightly as he left, trying not to feel satisfaction at the way the guards jumped at the sudden noise.

Zelda stared at the door for a minute before glaring at Impa. "That was unnecessary," she said, returning to her writing, delicately filling her pen with ink. "He does love you, you know."

Impa drew a breath, but it took several seconds before the words came out. "I...care for him as well. Which is why I cannot let him go soft. Iana would never forgive me if...if...not after..." She trailed off, rising from her seat and putting the beast skulls back into the bag. "I must be on my way. These need to be disposed of, and there are some troubling reports from the Ashlands I need to investigate, and the sooner I leave..."

"You don't need my permission to go, Impa," Zelda said, still writing. "Though I would appreciate more frequent visits...if only to reminisce."

"I will endeavour to find the time, your grace," Impa said, nodding. "I will ask a servant to bring you more tea before I go."

"What?" Zelda looked confused for a moment, but then she noticed the cold cup on the desk. She frowned. "Oh...yes. Thank you."

"Until next time, your grace."

* * *

"Deep thoughts, son?"

Link blinked, returning to reality...and the dinner table. He'd been miles away, walking through the streets of Castle Town, armed to the teeth and hunting all manners of horrid beasts with Sheik, watching each other's backs and ridding the world of murderous monsters. He'd kept finding his mind returning to this image over the past few weeks, and he tried to resist its allure.

Of course he couldn't become a hunter. Even if Sheik or, rather, Sheik's clan, allowed it, he simply couldn't leave Ordon behind. There were more than enough hands, true, and the money he'd brought back would keep the village alive for years, but...this was his home. It was a boy's fantasy, surely, the excitement he'd felt after the hunt with Sheik? His blood had been boiling, and the handsome face of his Sheikah companion...it gave him ideas, ideas he shouldn't have.

"Sorry, dad," he said, grinning sheepishly. "Just...remembering something."

His father gave him a sceptical look, which slowly turned sly as he seemed to work something out. "You've been like this since you got home...was the big city _that_ exciting when exploring on your own?" He grinned. "You met a girl, didn't you?"

It would have been so much easier if _that_ were Link's reason for his mind wandering. Hell, the hunt alone would have been easier to explain, but if he tried to tell his father and mother that the reason his mind kept returning to the streets of Castle Town was the red-eyed noma—Sheikah, he doubted they'd so understanding. He loved them both, he truly did, but some things were simply not for them to know.

"...something like that," he said, focusing on the stew in front of him, trying to ignore the empty seat across from him. At least they hadn't set the dishes, as they usually did. "What can I say, dad, it was...different to explore the city without you there."

"I'll say," his mother said, frowning. "If all it took to save the village from starvation was to send you to Castle Town on your own, we would have done so ages ago."

The words sounded harsh, but it was only because she was worried, Link knew. He hadn't told them where the money had come from, only that it was payment for a special job, and he had a feeling both of their minds were still abuzz with theories on how he'd come by some of the most precious gems to ever have been mined in Hyrule—none of them good. They'd interrogated him for hours upon his return to Ordon, but he'd continued to deflect and avoid the questions until they gave up, simply accepting the money and hoping to the Goddesses that their son hadn't done anything illegal to earn the money...or something degrading. Everyone knew the big city types were deviants of the highest degree, after all.

"Now we know what to do the next time there's a bad harvest," he replied with a grin.

His parents exchanged a glance. They weren't buying his (admittedly) awful lies, and his deflections were definitely subpar. A silent agreement seemed to take place, and they let the subject drop. Link had always been impressed at his parents' ability to communicate without uttering a single word. It was all specific glances and slight body movements, each one saying a thousand words.

"Meryn suggested we try turnips next year," his father said, shifting to the most boring topic Link could imagine. Was this his revenge against his secretive son? "They're hardier than what we usually grow. Might be something to fall back on if the wheat fails again."

"We don't have the room for it, though," Link said, refusing to play along with his father's trap. He might have found his old life dull as all hell after returning from Castle Town, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. "We're barely staying within the lines as it is. Sorman will never agree to let us expand. Unless..."

"If we were to take some of the money you brought back, I'm sure we can persuade him to sell us some of his land," his mother said. "It's an investment in Ordon's future."

"Sounds good, mom."

And so the night went on, and Link's defences remained strong; they did not buckle against his parents' continued assault. However, some sort of limit had clearly been reached, because his father came to his room just before Link turned in for the night, closing the door behind him carefully with a grave expression on his face.

"The truth this time, son," he said. "How did you earn that money?"

"The streets are literally paved with gold in certain parts of the city, dad," Link began. "Is it really that hard to imagine that—"

"The kind of gems you brought back does not simply fall into a farmer's hands, Link," his father said, scratching at his beard, as blonde as the hair on his head. "There are only three ways I can imagine someone could earn so much money in such a short amount of time."

"And those are?" Link asked.

Kolvar sighed, leaning against the door. Link's father was by no means a small man, but he seemed to shrink quite a bit as he looked glumly at his son. "One: You stole them. I did not raise a thief, so I doubt that's how you came by them. Two: You did...something for them. I know how easy it is for a young man to be drawn into the...worse parts of the town, and the sort of perverts that roam those streets...their appreciation of handsome, young men like you..."

Link wrinkled his nose. "Dad, I didn't—"

"Nothing is worth humiliating yourself like that for!" Kolvar interrupted him, glaring. "And _I_ am speaking now, Link, and you will stay quiet until I am done."

Link nodded quietly, surprised to see this side of his father. It had been years since he'd last seen him so agitated.

"Three," Kolvar continued, " and I believe this is the right answer: It had something to do with the weapons you brought back."

Link's eyes widened, and he fought down every indication that he'd been surprised by his father knowing about the weapons, which he had worked so hard to hide after returning home. The steel sword could easily have been explained as a random purchase for future bandit attacks, but the silver one was...well, who the hell would make a sword out of silver? Silver was far too soft for that sort of purpose...except hunting beasts, that is. And the pistol...well...

"Don't even try to lie to me about them, Link, I knew you were hiding them from day one." His father stepped around Link and tugged at the mattress of his son's bed, lifting it to reveal the sheathed swords and the pistol beneath it. "You never were a very good liar, son, but your mother and I thought it best to give you a chance to come clean about it. I'm sorry to say that my patience ran out long before hers."

"Dad, I—"

"You met a hunter, didn't you?" Kolvar asked, frowning as he drew the silver blade from its scabbard, trailing a finger gently along one of its edges. "It's been years since I've seen a blade like this, but they are instantly recognisable. It's the sheen, see? Completely different from steel or other sword metals. Softer, of course, which means it requires regular maintenance from someone who knows what they're doing." He sheathed the sword and picked up the pistol, sniffing the barrel and wrinkling his nose at the smell of gunpowder. "And these... _things_ ," he said with disgust, tossing it back onto the bed's frame. "So...care to tell me the story?"

"You know about...them?" Link asked, surprised. He'd never heard his father participate in the tavern's rumour mill...at least not about this. "The hunters?"

Kolvar snorted. "It's a bit difficult not to become aware of the hunters when one's brother runs away to join them."

Brother? Link didn't have any uncles...or, at least not any who were alive. "Your...brother?" he asked.

"Kerran," Kolvar said, his frown growing deeper.

Uncle Kerran... Link knew very little about him, apart from the fact that he was long dead. But that had been from a fever, not... _that_.

"He ran into a Sheikah on his way home from Castle Town one day," his father explained. "I don't know what happened or what the hunter told him, but when he got home all he could talk about was his desire to join them. Our father—your grandfather—was furious, of course. Kerran didn't speak a word about the actual hunting, having been sworn to secrecy, but the mere thought of one of his sons running off to join a pack of nomads did not sit well with him. Kerran ended up running away, and only returned after receiving word of dad's death. He brought his weapons and told us stories for hours. I was so relieved to see him alive and well that I forgot being angry with him for leaving." Kolvar chuckled. "Idiot was still as clumsy as ever. Whoever thought it was a good idea to give him razor-sharp blades is beyond me, but there he was..."

Link leaned forward; eager to take in the details of an uncle he'd never known. "Is he still—"

"He died just before you were born," his father said, interrupting him once again, his wistful smile disappearing as soon as it had come. "Killed on one of his hunts...something went wrong, or so I was told, though never in specifics. They never even returned his body. Apparently, there was nothing left of him." He touched the silver sword again, stroking its handle. "They tried to give me his weapons, but I sent them back. I didn't want any reminders...of him or of them." He turned to regard Link with sad eyes. "So...how did you meet the hunters?"

Link sighed. "I only met one," he said. "And...well, he recruited me for a night's job. He wouldn't tell me what the job actually was until I agreed to it, though he gave me every opportunity to decline."

"But you accepted," his father said.

"I was running out of money, dad," Link said. "If I didn't do it, I'd be returning home with even less money. And where would we be then?"

"We never asked you to put your life at risk, son," Kolvar said, shaking his head. "Never that."

"I know, dad, I know, but I...I really wanted to help, you know? Him _and_ the village."

Kolvar nodded and remained silent for a few minutes. "Was he a Sheikah? The hunter, I mean."

"Yeah. His name is Sheik—"

"Sheik the Sheikah?"

"Don't ask—it's a touchy subject, apparently."

"Heh, most subjects usually are when it comes to their kind." His father chuckled mirthlessly. "And I suppose he filled your head with grand ideas of hunting monsters for the good of the world, eh? Gave you the weapons as an incentive to lure you back in?"

"What? No!" Link glared at him. "Sheik practically discouraged me from joining, saying how difficult it is and stuff! He only gave me the weapons for future protection in case of attacks on the village—"

"And the silver one?"

"...a memento, I guess? I don't know, dad, but Sheik never tried to pressure me to join..."

Or had he? There hadn't been any overt attempts to persuade Link to join the hunters, but perhaps all the talk of how difficult it was had simply been an attempt to tantalise Link's interest, to make him even more agreeable?

...really, Sheik _alone_ had been enough for that, but...

...no, Sheik didn't strike him as the type to do that kind of thing. He seemed the honourable sort, the kind who didn't resort to lowly tactics like that.

"That's the Sheikah in action, son," Kolvar said, patting him on the shoulder. "Subterfuge and confusion is their bread and butter. They sow seeds of chaos that might take days, months, years, even, to blossom. Your friend Sheik the Hunter might have seemed like a stand-up guy, but chances are he was playing you the entire time, trying to recruit you to a cause that will be your death. Kerran's friend was the same."

"Don't...don't talk about Sheik like that," Link said. "He's nothing like Uncle Kerran's friend..."

Kolvar crossed his arms and leaned against the door, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't...it'd be a miracle, finding the one Sheikah in existence who isn't manipulative, but..." He sighed heavily, glancing at the weapons on the bed frame. "No amount of yelling or forbidding will help, either. Screaming at you will only make you dig in on your position, forbidding you won't work... You're almost a man...hell, you _are_ a man. It's your decision to make."

"Dad, I—"

"It's _your_ decision to make," Kolvar repeated. "I won't stop you, whatever you land on. I just...I won't be waiting to hear from the Sheikah that another member of my family has been killed by their damn beasts." He patted Link's shoulder again. "My heart won't take it...not since Akia."

And he left it that, quietly leaving Link's room. Link expected him to cross the hallway, but instead Kolvar left the small house entirely, intent on taking a walk.

Kolvar was too upset to sleep now that his suspicions were confirmed. Of _course_ his son had fallen for the Sheikah and their ways. It was inevitable, especially for a farmhand whose life had so far consisted mostly of...well, farming. To Link, a hunter's life would seem glamorous and exciting, a chance for adventure. It certainly had to Kerran, and Kolvar saw a lot of his younger brother in Link. Too much, sometimes.

He felt guilty for bringing up his daughter. The wound was still fresh, even after so many years. But if it served to keep Link in Ordon, he was willing to employ it in his arsenal. He hadn't lied to Link—were he to choose the hunter's path, Kolvar couldn't stop him...but damned if he wasn't going to try discouraging him until Link finally made his choice. Because he had to choose, no matter what his Sheikah friend had told him. Until he did, he would continue to drift off and be absentminded, like he'd been ever since returning from Castle Town.

He quickly reached the edge of the village, staring at the road that snaked its way through the fields of Hyrule, towards Castle Town. Ordon was sheltered by a large copse of trees, protecting it from the harsh winds that sometimes blew across the plains. It also made it difficult to see trouble coming...but Kolvar was in luck. Even in the darkness, he could hear the horse's hooves on the gravel road, and he could see the light bobbing up and down as the rider approached at a light canter.

He unconsciously reached for his sword, cursing himself for leaving it at home. It probably didn't matter—he could handle a single intruder on his own.

The rider slowed down upon spotting him, and slowly entered the village gate, pausing beside Kolvar.

Even if his face-covering cowl or heavy array of weapons didn't give him away, Kolvar immediately recognised the accent the young man spoke with, looking down at Kolvar with a friendly gaze.

"Excuse me, sir," the Sheikah asked. "Good evening. Have I reached Ordon Village?"

"You have, Master Sheikah," Kolvar replied politely. "Forgive me if I'm rude, but your kind rarely comes to this part of the kingdom—might I ask your business here?"

"It's...personal," the Sheikah (Sheik, wasn't it?) said, hesitating slightly. He must have sensed Kolvar's slightly hostile tone. "I am looking for someone. His name is Link, and he—"

"Is my son," Kolvar said with narrowed eyes.

"Ah, I see. It is nice to meet you—"

"Again, forgive my rudeness, but I find it to be an immense displeasure to make your acquaintance." Kolvar glanced at the road Sheik had just arrived on. "You've put funny thoughts into my son's head, and were it up to me I would send you packing back the way you came...but it isn't."

Despite how offended he must have been, Sheik remained calm and gave Kolvar a patient look. It was difficult to insult a Sheikah sufficiently—they'd heard it all before. He nodded at Kolvar. "I understand, and I apologise. It was not my intention to do so. Had I known it would cause trouble, I would have found someone else to hire that night."

"I assume you want to see him," Kolvar continued, ignoring the apology. "And you may...but not tonight. It's late, and he has chores in the morning."

"I will stay at the tavern, then," Sheik said, eyeing the largest building in the very centre of the village. "That is, if they will accommodate my kind?"

"They will if you tell them Kolvar sent you." Despite his distrust of the Sheikah, Kolvar saw no reason to be cruel. The young rider was clearly exhausted; his position in the saddle was slumped and limp, as if he'd been riding for days on end. "Food and drink will be free, though the room won't be."

"I have money," Sheik said.

"Then you will find no trouble here, Master Sheikah."

"My name is Sheik."

"I would comment, but my son told me it is a sore subject."

"I appreciate that."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow."

Kolvar turned and walked away, trying to fight the urge to tell the hunter to bugger off and leave his family in peace...but Link would never forgive him for that. So he would simply go for non-committal politeness instead...and hope that his son would see reason.


	3. The Promise

The Studio was the scene of less activity than Impa would have liked. Where the halls were once filled to the brim with Sheikah hard at work creating new weapons and devising strategies for the hunting of beasts, she counted herself lucky when she saw more than a dozen or so of her clan mates at any one time, and even then the level of activity itself was disappointing. In their place there were mercenaries and outsiders who, despite having proved themselves quite capable, lacked the sense of duty that had driven her people for centuries, hunting and exterminating monsters so that the innocents of the world could sleep soundly in their beds at night.

Still, she was grateful for their help, and some of them were quite respectable in their desire to help the world. She had even hunted alongside a few, which was a rare occurrence indeed since Impa preferred to work alone.

Some of the hunters looked up when they heard her cane clicking on the stone floor, quickly returning to their work after exchanging nods or a short, verbal greeting.

The place was far too quiet these days. At its peak, the din of the Studio would have been unbearable thanks to the vaulted stone ceiling. The tall windows, locate high on the walls, would have illuminated the place with either the radiant light of the sun or the pale luminescence of the moon. The sound of hammers on metal would echo day and night, the furnaces burning brightly. Hunters would have cheerful gatherings in the tavern, exchanging stories and theories, harrowing tales of hunts nearly gone wrong, tearful recollections of comrades long gone...

She missed that, the camaraderie, the constant feeling of being part of something truly great, despite how unacknowledged their work was. It was like this everywhere now—hunters were a dying breed, though it was not for the lack of beasts, that was certain. If anything, their numbers were increasing, which necessitated an increase in the number of hunters, but there were simply no recruits to be had. The Sheikah were dwindling all over the world, and it was difficult to find suitable outsiders to swell their ranks...and the recruitment process itself was difficult to perfect, if such a thing was even possible.

The problem was the time it took to train a hunter. A Sheikah would be trained from the moment they could walk. Outsider recruits were generally adults and set in their ways. They were not as easy to mould and shape into the sort of individual who could track, identify and eliminate dangerous creatures without alerting the surroundings to the existence of said creatures. There were some who had a natural talent for it, of course, and Impa ensured that those few had plenty of reasons to remain with the Studio. And then there was the difficulty in _finding_ those individuals in the first place. Every now and then, Impa had her spies search the various armies of the world for suitable people whose talents could perhaps be aimed towards a higher purpose, but that always increased the risk in revealing the unbearable truth to the world at large, the truth that was a direct contradiction of what the people told themselves every day: we're safe.

And not every potential recruit reacted well to that particular revelation. More than once, Impa had been forced to have a loose-lipped man or woman eliminated before their words reached someone who actually had the means to investigate the ravings of an apparent madman.

Sheik had the right idea in his approach to the recruitment problem. Her nephew, who had always preferred the more urban parts of the world, combed the streets for the wretches, the homeless, the orphans. He found those with nothing to lose, and everything to gain. He gradually revealed to them the truth, carefully brought them into the real world. He never fully revealed the truth until after the recruit was sworn to the cause, but ensured that they understood the danger of what he was offering.

The only problem with his way to deal with the issue was the speed at which he did it. He could spend months on a single individual...which was why Impa had been so surprised at the speed of the farmhand's employment...but then, that had been a special case, under an extreme time limit.

Impa was so deep in thought that she nearly passed right by the person she was looking for, pausing only when she caught sight of a flash of red in the corner of her eye. She pivoted on the spot, leaning forward with both hands on her cane and carefully watching the grey-clad hunter at work.

"Master," the hunter said, her back turned to the Sheikah. "Welcome back. How was Hyrule?"

"The same as always," Impa replied noncommittally. "Filthy, odorous, a damn mess...but comforting all the same. It's my home away from home."

"And the princess?"

Impa frowned. "Busy, as ever. Where the girl finds the energy, I will never know. She has big plans for a treaty with Lumina, something about airborne ships, or something like it. I've been trying to discourage her, but when she has her mind set on something..."

"Did you tell her about the harpies?" Something clicked on the table in front of the hunter, and there was the sound of metal sliding against metal. "Damn it, half a millimetre too long..."

"I didn't outright explain the concept of the things, but I hinted heavily that achieving flight might not be the best idea...at least not until we perfect our methods for dealing with the pests." Impa finally approached the table, ducking under the low stone arch that separated this particular hunter's workshop from those of the others. "What are you working on?" she asked. "A pistol?"

"Zero points for guessing," the hunter said, glancing up at Impa with a grin on her face. The claw marks over her left golden eye only served to make an already attractive face even more so. Her red hair was bound tightly to the back of her head, ensuring it didn't get in the way. Her hands and fingers were an oily mess from her work, which was definitely some sort of pistol, though it seemed to have a strange attachment at the base of the grip. "It's a pistol, yes, but one that doesn't require reloading after every shot. When I get this thing to fit, we'll be able to fire four shots before having to reload."

"That's incredible, Ayla," Impa said, genuinely impressed. "But how does it work? We need to refill the powder, and the charge—"

"All there in the cartridge," Ayla said, holding up a strange-looking object. It was a brass cylinder about the length and thickness of the first two knuckles on her little finger, seemingly a perfect fit for the barrel of a pistol, with a rounded tip that seemed to be made of a different metal. "In this end here," Ayla said, pointing at the other end, "there's a small powder charge that is easily ignited by the force of the hammer. Turns out that the amount of powder we usually use is far more than strictly necessary."

Impa took the cartridge and turned it over in her hand, examining it. "And it still packs enough of a punch to stop a lycanthrope in its tracks?" she asked dubiously.

"This won't," Ayla admitted. "Far too small of a bullet and charge. I have plans for larger ones, however, but I need to ensure this one works before increasing the calibre."

"Well, I am certainly looking forward to seeing what comes of the idea," Impa said, handing the cartridge back. "It's good to have some inventiveness in the Studio again."

"You should see what the twins are up to," Ayla said, grinning.

"Ah, they have returned?"

"Got back yesterday. Apparently, their visit didn't go so well. Had some trouble with trolls, ran into an old mother figure or something like that—I didn't really get enough details on account of both of them being dead on their feet and nearly falling asleep on each other. Quite cute, actually, in a way, but not conducive to scientific understanding." Ayla shook her head. "Anyway, Ard apparently had a hell of an idea, and they've been locked up in their laboratory all day. I'd go say hello, if I were you."

"Maybe when I'm not so tired myself," Impa said, nodding. "I can deal with Erd like this, but Ard..."

"Yeah, he's still a bit grumpy, and we all know what happens when you and him butt heads."

Grumpy was not really the word Impa would have used to describe the young man, and she didn't much appreciate the implication of her losing her cool, but she refrained from commenting and focused on the matter at hand. "Any new recruits?"

"None to my knowledge," Ayla admitted with a sigh, wiping her hands on an oily cloth, which did little to remove the filth from them. "We've begun scraping the bottom of the barrel, it seems. No soldiers in Termina or Hyrule are willing or good enough to join...and Nabooru has even searched our dungeons for people with potential, but..."

"I see," Impa replied with a nod, trying not to seem too disappointed. "Well, Sheik might be bringing in a few in the immediate future."

"Oh?"

"Two war orphans, around eight years old. And a farmhand around his own age."

"A farmhand?"

"He is a natural, apparently. Held his own on a hunt for a lycanthrope, and kept his head cool when a second appeared without warning. Shot it clean through the eye. Saved Sheik's life."

"Ah...well, he could certainly become an asset, if he's willing to learn."

"Depends, really. I sent Sheik to the boy's village to merely ensure his silence on the matter of beasts, but knowing my nephew and his...tendencies..."

"He'll recruit him out of spite," Ayla finished, grinning. "Yeah, that's Sheik in a nutshell. Good kid, that one."

"He is," Impa agreed. "Now, any news from the Valley?"

"Where do I start? Another assassination attempt..."

* * *

The sun was just beginning to rise by the time Sheik had finished his exercises and begun to dress for the day. His knee was particularly achy that morning, and he'd been forced to spend twenty minutes extra stretching and warming it up. He decided to wear a subtler outfit than his usual hunter garb, so as to not intimidate the villagers of Ordon. Knowing their sort, the very fact that a Sheikah had come to town was bad enough if he wasn't going to walk around dressed like a killer as well. A black shirt and dark dress pants with braces seemed harmless enough, he supposed, and a thick jacket to guard against the morning chill.

He stuck a couple of daggers into the back of his trousers, hiding them beneath the hem of the shirt—he had no intention of scaring people, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to walk around unarmed either. He'd heard stories of Sheikah caught unawares in alleys by those who simply could not abide the presence of the red-eyed "nomads".

Ordon's only tavern was far from an impressive building. The wood was well worn and worm-eaten, and the air inside smelled positively ancient and mouldy. It had once been a barn, judging by its shape and layout. However, it also had a certain charm, and Sheik had slept quite well after a hearty late-night meal, which, as Kolvar had promised, was complimentary. The room itself had been cheap as well, though he could have done without the distrustful glances he'd kept receiving from the innkeeper's husband.

"Good morning, Master Sheikah," the innkeeper greeted him as he descended into the main room. This early in the morning, the only people there were Sheik, the innkeeper and a dead-drunk patron who'd fallen asleep in the corner. "I trust you slept well?"

"I did, thank you," Sheik said, nodding and giving her a smile he knew would be particularly disarming. "It has been quite a while since I last spent a night somewhere so...peaceful."

"I imagine it's quite different from the city," she said, looking briefly at the oven, where several pans were heating up. "Breakfast won't be ready for another hour or so, I'm afraid."

"That's fine, I have some business to attend to anyway," Sheik replied, still smiling. "Should only serve to whet my appetite."

"I'll be sure to make extra," she said, chuckling. "Kolvar's friends usually are a hungry bunch."

"Speaking of Kolvar," Sheik said, remembering the slightly unpleasant meeting he'd had with Link's father the night before, "could you tell me where he lives? I have never been to Ordon before, and it looks bigger than on the map..."

The innkeeper agreed, and spent the next five minutes describing a fairly intricate route through the village that would lead Sheik to the door of Kolvar's house. He thanked her and left the tavern, stepping into the morning sun. The villagers were already well into their day, attending to the myriad of things necessary to keep a farming community afloat. They all seemed rather cheerful, despite the poor harvests of the season, but Sheik had an inkling as to the source of their happiness. Link truly had given the money he'd earned to the village at large. That made him...happy, for some reason.

He followed the main street between the houses until he reached a crossroads near the outskirts, and took a right, following a long dirt road leading up to a house at the top of a hill overlooking the village. As Sheik had understood it, the farmable land around Ordon belonged to everyone in the village, though four "chief farmers" had been named, each looking after a fourth of the fields. Kolvar was one of these four farmers, which made him somewhat important in the village. He'd seemed a reasonable man, though, despite his chilly welcome. An old warrior, too, judging by the way he'd gripped for a non-existent sword at his side upon spotting Sheik. It was no wonder Link had been a natural with a blade, then.

The house was two stories high, painted a vivid red and pale white. The garden in front was well tended, a veritable explosion of colour in the green grass, save for some dead, yellow patches here and there. It was quite strange, seeing this spot so alive and vibrant, when the fields around the village seemed so...dead. He could see one of those fields from this spot, among the trees to the north, down the hill. There was a great deal of activity down there as the workers worked to clear away the dead and rotten wheat.

Sheik stepped up to the door and rapped lightly on it with his knuckles. He tugged his cowl down, to make himself less threatening. Perhaps Kolvar would be a bit less hostile if he didn't see a hunter armed to the teeth trying to see his son?

A woman opened the door, definitely Link's mother judging by the similarity of her facial build, especially around the eyes. Link had inherited his mother's kind-looking eyes, though said eyes narrowed upon spotting him, her shoulders tensing. Clearly, Kolvar had informed her of his late-night encounter with Sheik.

"Good morning," he said, smiling at her. "My name is Sheik, of the Sheikah. I am here to see Link, if he is available."

"Sheik the Sheikah?" the woman asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that reminded Sheik eerily of his aunt. "Seems a bit...redundant, doesn't it?"

It was the first thing anyone ever commented when he introduced himself, and, while Sheik understood that being named after his people's founder was a huge honour, it was becoming quite an annoyance. "I am named after my people's progenitor," he explained. "It may seem redundant, but is far from it, madam...?"

"Elia," she replied. "Just Elia. No fancy madams or mistresses here, Mister Sheik."

"Please, call me Sheik, then," Sheik replied, bowing. "I take it your husband mentioned me?"

"He did," she said, regarding him with a contemplative expression. "He said you're here to take my son away, to make him a hunter. His uncle was a hunter, you know. He died."

Sheik did not know that. Link had certainly never mentioned it...but then, perhaps Kolvar had kept the truth hidden from his son. "I am not here to take your son away, I assure you," he said, shaking his head. "I simply need to speak with him. Make a few things absolutely clear. I'm sure you understand...?"

Elia opened her mouth to say something else, but then Link suddenly appeared in the doorway beside her, his eyes lighting up when he recognised the visitor.

"Sheik!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Well met again, Link," Sheik said, inclining his head. "I am here to speak with you, in fact, though I would be loath to keep you from your duties—"

"That's fine, I just finished my chores for the morning," Link said, shaking his head and turning to his mother. "Mom, can I—"

"Ask your father."

"But I—"

The argument was interrupted before it began, as Kolvar himself stepped into the hallway, quickly spotting the gathering by the door. His eyes met Sheik's for a moment, and they hardened considerably. "Ah, you're here," he said. "Earlier than I expected for a city dweller like yourself."

"I prefer rising before dawn," Sheik said. "Always seems easier to get things done that way."

"Hmph." Kolvar looked between Sheik and his son, looking ready to shove Link backwards and slam the door in Sheik's face, but something inside seemed to crumble, and he nodded. "Well, if you're here to talk, then talk, but only if you make yourself useful."

Link looked horrified. "Dad! Sheik is—"

"Keeping you from your chores," Kolvar said. "I need someone to inspect the north-eastern potato field. I suspect worms have infested it, but everyone's too busy clearing out the wheat. Link, why don't you and your...friend take a look?" He paused at the word "friend", as if searching for any other word than that and finding them offensive. "You can talk while you work."

"Dad—"Link tried again, but Sheik spoke up this time.

"I'll be more than happy to help," he said. "I am no stranger to manual labour, though perhaps of a different kind."

"If you can work a shovel, you'll be fine," Kolvar said.

"Perfect."

Link scowled, but nodded. He and Sheik fetched shovels from the shed by the house and followed the path in the grass that led down to the fields, through the thick copse of trees that surrounded the village itself. It was quite a walk, taking them the better part of an hour, and they were silent the entire time. Sheik took the opportunity to study his one-time hunting partner in his native environment. In Castle Town, Link had been clad in a worn, but clean suit. Presumably that was what counted as finery around Ordon, meant for visits to the city. Here, however, Link was dressed in rough, knee-length trousers and a loose-fitting cotton shirt. His feet were bare, and his hair was tied back in a minuscule ponytail to keep it out of his face.

It...suited him. Sheik tried not to be too overt in his staring, but he noticed that Link was doing exactly the same thing.

"Your clothes aren't exactly cut out for farming," Link commented once they reached the edge of the potato field. It certainly looked infested, but only digging into the soil would prove Kolvar's theory. "Don't let my father intimidate you—you just stay here while I get started—"

"No, my presence here is an inconvenience to everyone, and I _will_ make it up to you all," Sheik insisted, rolling up his sleeves. "I may not be a farmer, but I know how to dig. You just tell me what to look for."

"Right..." Link trailed off, looking dubious. "Well, we'll start with a row each. Dig up every other plant, or so, and look at the potatoes themselves. If they're all grey and slimy, or if you see a bunch of small, fat, white worms around them, it's infested. If a whole row's like that, chances are the rest of the field is as well, but we'll have to check each row just to be sure."

"Seems simple enough."

"It is, but very tiring."

"I fight monsters for a living, Link," Sheik said, grinning at him. "I think I can deal with a few potatoes."

"If you say so."

Two hours or so later, Sheik was soaked to the bone with sweat, panting heavily as he dug into what felt like the millionth spot of the day. At a distance, the field had seemed a lot smaller, but they were still only on the first row. He regretted his words now—apparently, the sort of exercise one got running around and risking one's life fighting wolf-beasts did not prepare one's body for the rigours of farm work. Link, however, had barely broken a sweat despite the sun shining down on them. His shovel strokes were precise and accurate, never clearing away more than exactly what was needed to uncover the spuds and inspect them.

"You all right, Sheik?" he asked, looking up from his work. "Need a break?"

"No...I'm...fine," Sheik panted, refusing to admit defeat. He was a Sheikah, damn it! What good was he if he couldn't even work the land for a day? "How're...you...?"

"I'm just getting warmed up, to be honest," Link said, grinning. He planted his shovel into the dirt and leaned on it, regarding Sheik with a smug expression. "Guess the big, bad hunter wasn't prepared for the potato monsters, huh?"

"Different...set of...muscles...in use," Sheik continued, also planting his shovel and leaning on it like Link was. He didn't say it, but he was immensely grateful for the slight pause in activity. It let him catch his breath, at least. "If a...spud rose up...and attacked us...I'd dice it...in a second..."

"Sure, Sheik, I believe you," Link said, laughing. "So...why are you here?"

Sheik wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, surprised at how wet it came away, like he'd been out swimming. "A formality, really," he said, finally able to speak without having to draw breath every second or so. "Do you remember when we last met, how I told you about the importance of secrecy?"

"Of course," Link said, rolling his eyes. "I haven't told anyone about anything, I swear."

"Your father seemed to know who I was the moment we met last night."

"He figured it out on his own," Link explained, sighing. "He found the weapons, and guessed his way to what happened. Turns out my uncle used to be a hunter...but he died. His name was Kerran. Did you...do you know...?"

"I have never heard of him, Link," Sheik confessed. "But if he was one of us, his name will be carved into a wall in the Studio."

"The Studio?"

Sheik cursed himself, and blamed his fatigue on his errant tongue. He was here to ensure Link's silence, but was accidentally revealing more of their secrets to him instead. "Our...headquarters, as it were."

"Where is that?"

"Can't tell you, I'm afraid." He shook his head, suppressing the shudder when he felt drops of sweat being flung from his hair, much like a dog shaking itself off after a swim. "But back on topic: apart from your parents, who else in Ordon knows about us?"

"No one," Link said firmly. "The rest of the village thinks I did something...unspeakable to earn the money. I haven't told _anyone_ what I did."

Sheik nodded, seeing not a trace of a lie in the other boy's face. "Good, and I can count on you to ensure that this is how things will remain?"

"Yes."

"Excellent, then my job here is done."

Link blinked, mouth dropping open in surprise. "That's it? That's why you came all the way here?"

"I was ordered to by the Master Hunter, to ensure you understand the importance of secrecy," Sheik admitted, omitting the fact that the Master Hunter also happened to be his aunt. "She is very...wary of outsiders, especially those we haven't been keeping an eye on beforehand. I cannot overstate how unorthodox the way I recruited you was, Link. If I'd known how much trouble it would cause, both for me and for you, I would have found some other way to get help...or do the hunt on my own."

"You would've been dead if you'd gone alone," Link said, stepping closer. "It didn't cause me any trouble, so don't even think of apologising for it."

Sheik felt his chest give a slight flutter from the intensity of Link's gaze, forcing him to clear his throat and look away. "Yes, well, I still put you at risk, and your father certainly didn't appreciate it."

"Doesn't matter, I'm a man and I can make my own decisions."

"I see, but—look out!"

He was barely able to throw himself into Link and pull him to the ground in time, the small axe spinning over their heads. Sheik rolled to his feet and reached for one of the shovels. Hearing the familiar zoom of a blade in the air, he spun around and struck out with the tool, and was rewarded with the loud clang and a tremor that went all the way up his arm, the second axe dropping harmlessly in the dirt.

"Nice one, kid!" an unfamiliar voice said, its owner standing at the end of the field, along with a second intruder. They were both dressed in worn leather gear, covered in filth. The speaker held a third throwing axe in his hand, while the other had drawn a bastard sword with a jagged edge. Bandits. "Try this!"

Robbed of its moment of surprise, Sheik easily sidestepped the third axe as it spun through the air, which had its owner frowning. Link was back on his feet now as well, glaring at the newcomers.

"Hey Blondie," the other bandit said with a grin, adjusting his grip on his sword. "Long time no see!"

"Friends of yours?" Sheik asked, handing Link the other shovel as the bandits approached.

"The bandits I told you about in Castle Town," Link said, looking uncertainly at the shovel. "Should've brought one of the swords..."

"A shovel can be far more dangerous than a sword if used correctly," Sheik said, deciding to keep his daggers a secret for now. "It gives you a long reach, with a lot metal at the end. It may not have the sharpest edge, but _hurts_ to be hit over the head with it."

They were definitely at a disadvantage, especially when the axe-thrower drew his fourth and final axe from behind his back. He didn't throw it, however. Instead, he and his partner paused ten paces away, studying the two of them.

"Boy, you got big, Blondie," the sword-wielder said, studying Link in a way that was _not_ appropriate for any situation. Sheik fought the urge to kill the man then and there. Then the salacious gaze landed on Sheik, and he did a double take. "A nomad...Ordon taking in strays these days?"

"Pretty one, too," the axe-thrower said, licking his lips. "Could fetch a nice price on the markets, dontcha think?"

"Touch him, and you're dead," Link growled.

Neither of them looked impressed with the threat. The axeman even laughed. "Hah, it's like being yelled at by a puppy! Look, kid, just give up, will ya? We don't want to spoil the merchandise any more than we have to."

Sheik glanced at Link. He'd never mentioned there were slavers to the south of Hyrule. Did Zelda know? Surely not—she would've had them exterminated a long while ago, in that case. "Slavery is illegal in Hyrule," he said, gripping the shovel tighter and trying to figure out how much time it would take him to cross the distance between them. The soil beneath his feet was loose and easy to trip in—and if he did so he'd be exposed. "I suggest you turn around and leave—or the law will be brought down upon you like a sledgehammer."

"I won't be lectured by a fucking blood-eye," the swordsman spat, approaching Sheik with no further ado. "Come here, boy!"

That suited Sheik just fine. He pretended to be frozen with fear, counting down the steps the man took towards him.

Three...two...one...in range.

Sheik dropped low and swung the shovel just as the man aimed a sword stroke at the spot where the Sheikah's neck had been a moment before. The head of the shovel made a loud clang when it slammed into the bandit's knee, causing him to howl and drop down. In the corner of his eye, Sheik saw Link engage the axeman, swinging his improvised weapon widely, preventing his foe from coming within range with his small axe.

"Damn you," the swordsman shouted, thrusting his weapon forward and nearly catching Sheik's shoulder, forcing him backwards. There was a loud clang, and the axeman howled with pain. "I'll gouge your eyes out!"

Sheik rolled said eyes, and allowed the man to approach. He didn't have the time or patience to deal with these clowns. It was a clumsy attack, and the man slipped in the soil, putting him off-balance. Sheik sidestepped the attack and drew one of his daggers in a single motion, raking it across the bandit's throat. The bandit choked, clutching at his neck, and fell dead into the field, wetting the soil with his blood. It was, perhaps, unnecessary to actually kill them, but...well, slavery was something his people was intimately familiar with, and he would not suffer the bastards to live.

Link had the axeman groaning and bleeding from the temple on the ground, his shovel raised in preparation for another strike, but he seemed to think better of it.

"I got big, yeah," he told the axeman, spitting at him. "Big enough to finally fight you!"

"Son...of a...bitch," the axeman moaned. "Boss'...gonna...mount your heads...on pikes...when he's done with Ordon..."

"Done with Ordon? What the hell're you talking about?!"

Sheik turned around and looked in the direction of the village. The view was blocked by the forest, but above them... "Link, I see smoke," he said.

A thick plume was rising from beyond the trees, black as soot. Something was burning in Ordon!

He turned just in time to see the axeman grab one of his weapons from the ground, rearing back to throw it at Link's unprotected back. With a practiced, deft motion, Sheik flicked his wrist and sent the bloody dagger straight into the man's eye. His entire body gave a jerk, and fell back into the dirt. To his credit, Link's eyes only widened a fraction at the sheer speed of the thing, and he did not seem overly bothered by the fact that Sheik had just killed two men in front of him. Then again, this was probably not the first time Link had seen something like this, if he'd been fighting since he was fourteen.

"You...saved my life," Link said hesitatingly.

"I suppose that makes us even," Sheik said, retrieving the dagger and wiping the gore off the blade on the bandit's armour.

"Ordon's under attack," Link said, looking anxious as he retrieved the first bandit's sword. "Come on, we have to help them!"

"I'm right with you!"

Leaving the bodies and their tools behind, they took off towards Ordon.

* * *

The village burned. Most of the buildings had been reduced to smouldering skeletons by the time they emerged from the trees, the air thick with smoke, causing their eyes to water and their throats to tighten. Every breath they took made their lungs burn. One of the smaller buildings collapsed in the distance, releasing a shower of sparks into the air.

"No, no, no!" Link screamed when he saw that his house was also on fire, the flames consuming the wood like it was nothing. "Mom! Dad!" He climbed the small hill, Sheik right on his heels. He looked ready to run right through the blazing doorway, and Sheik was barely able to grab his arm and stop him in time. "Let go! They could be in there!"

"Link, if you go in there you're going to die!"

"Let me go, Sheik!"

"No!"

Link tore his arm out of Sheik's grip and made to run inside the house, but then the second story floor collapsed, blocking the doorway and sending Link stumbling backwards as he cradled his burned forearm. "Ah!"

"...Link...here..."

They turned their heads, looking in the direction the voice had come from. It had come from the patch of tall grass in the garden, which seemed to have been trampled and...stained red... They searched the thicket, and found the source of the voice. Kolvar had been opened diagonally from shoulder to hip and left for dead, surrounded by the bodies of those he'd fought. Link went to his side, grabbing the reaching hand and holding it tight. "Dad!"

"Son...I...failed..."

Sheik picked up the blood-stained sword that lay at Kolvar's side, immediately recognising as the silver blade he'd given to Link on the night of their hunt. It was dented, and the edges gouged—he'd been using it to fight the bandits! It was a wonder he'd survived long enough to take several of the bastards with him!

"Dad, no, no, you didn't fail, I..."

"I did, son...your mother...they killed her...couldn't...stop them..." Kolvar's breath was raspy and wet, his lungs filling with blood. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he held on to Link's hand with desperation. "...I'm sorry...Link..."

"It's not your fault, dad, I... I wasn't there, I was...we were..."

"Glad...you're safe...boy..." Kolvar's lips twisted into a smile, and he stroked his son's face, wiping at Link's tears, failing to notice the blood he was smearing all over his son's face. "The...children..."

"Children?"

Sheik looked back towards the village, seeing the bodies that littered the ground in every direction. All adults. The village children...where were they? He laid the sword back on the ground next to father and son and made to walk away, knowing that his presence was worth little at the moment anyway, and—

"Sheikah!"

The gasped shout halted him in his tracks, and he turned around, finding Kolvar's burning gaze focused on him.

"My son," the man breathed, coughing blood. "Get him...to safety...don't care...where!"

"Mister Kolvar, I—"

"Promise me!"

"...I promise." He didn't find the will to argue with the dying man, and nodded. Kolvar seemed to relax just then, and he knew it was a matter of moments before...before...

"...good...Link...go with him..."

"What? Dad, you said that—"

Kolvar's eyes slowly closed, breathing out slowly. He did not draw another, his body going limp in Link's arms.

"Dad? Dad, come on, you can't...you can't leave me like this! Dad, wake up! Please!"

Sheik couldn't bear to watch the display, and turned away. There were tracks in the mud and the gravel everywhere, of horses' hooves and cartwheels. They led all over the place, but all seemed to converge on the gate, heading away from the village. Sheik could only assume that's where the children had gone...with the bandits. Slavers. He clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the dagger he was holding.

_Animals...all of them..._

The tavern was burning. By now, it was too late to go inside and retrieve his weapons and equipment. He thanked the Goddesses for having made the decision to leave his mother's sword in Castle Town, deciding it wasn't necessary for the relatively short trip to Ordon...if it had been inside the tavern, he wasn't so sure he'd be able to stop himself from going inside as easily as he had stopped Link.

"Dad..."

The bandits would discover their dead comrades in the field soon enough, if they came back. Sheik had no idea how many they were, but judging by the amount of horse tracks, there were at least twenty more of them, not including the cart drivers. Sheik could easily deal with two or three opponents on his own, but a small army like that? Not a bloody chance. He turned back to Link, cursing himself for what he was about to do, but finding no other recourse.

"Link, we have to go."

"No, we can't, we have to, to bury him and mom, and—"

"There is no time. The bandits may come back at any moment, and we can't fight them all by ourselves. The sooner we get out of Ordon, the better. The princess must be notified of this." He laid a hand on Link's shoulder, meant for it to be comforting. Link slapped it away, glaring at him.

"Don't touch me! I'm not leaving him! I'm not leaving them!"

Sheik sighed. He hated himself for the thought of what he was about to do, but...they needed to get moving. "Link, the bandits took the village children. Do you intend to leave them to the slavers' mercy? They'll be taken out of Hyrule and sold on the markets in the south, to brothels and Goddesses know what else. Is that what you want?"

"We...we can't fight them, you said so yourself," Link said, the anger dissipating from his voice, replaced by nothing but despair as he stroked his father's hand.

"Even if I had my weapons, I wouldn't have been able to," Sheik admitted. "But we don't need to fight them to free the children. Sheikah are masters of stealth—if I can get to them at night, I can free them."

Link looked up at him, and the sight was heart breaking. But Sheik closed himself off from such feelings. There was no time for it. "Can you?" Link asked.

"Yes."

Link looked back to his father, bent down and closed Kolvar's eyes. "I'm sorry, dad," he said, kissing his forehead. "I've got to go."

The village horses had been taken, and everything else of value had either been stolen or set fire to. The malice of it was unbelievable. If there were any justice in the world, they would soon meet slow and painful ends. As it was, it forced the two of them to run on foot. The tracks were easy enough to follow, but how long it would take them to catch up to the bandits was impossible to say.

Sheik glanced over at Link, whose eyes had hardened with purpose and meaning. He'd taken the silver sword with him, as well as the dead bandit's regular one. There was no question about whether or not he meant to use them.

_Goddesses, forgive me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I should probably point out that I will be reusing a lot of my original characters from the Souls Trilogy (posted on ff.net). I always attempt to limit Mary Sue-ish tendencies, but some might slip through the cracks...and I would very much appreciate it if you let me know when they do so I can excise them with extreme prejudice.


	4. The Shriekers

The sun hung low in the sky, colouring the world a dark red, much like that of the blood spilled in Ordon. Even after a whole day of chasing the slavers, the plumes of smoke from the burning village were visible in the distance. News of the farmer community's destruction would be spreading, now, and Sheik could only hope that an army patrol would be dispatched soon enough. They had to be, or else...

His legs and lungs burned, every step sending shocks through his body that made his head ache from the exertion. His clothes were once more soaked with sweat, and he could feel the blisters forming under his feet due to the highly inappropriate footwear he'd chosen that day. He could only wonder how Link managed to keep running with his feet bare like that, or where he found the stamina to keep going. Desperation, anger, and grief were powerful motivators, it seemed.

"Come on, hurry!"

Link kept repeating this as they ran, over and over, as if that would somehow increase their speed...which only kept falling. They would never catch up to the slavers at this rate.

Ahead, the dirt road split into two. One road curved northwards, towards the capital, while the other continued south, towards the slavers' territory. Now was the time—there could be no hesitation. Bringing to bear the little energy he'd been conserving ever since they'd begun their chase, he pulled ahead of Link just as they reached the crossroads, and took a right. He'd managed about five steps past the sign when he heard Link's voice calling after him.

"Sheik! Sheik! Stop!"

_Damn it..._

Contrary to what he _knew_ he should have done, he slowed down and came to a stop, bending over to catch his breath for a few moments before walking back to where Link was waiting. He too had trouble breathing, but his gaze was focused. Too focused to fall for Sheik's simple trick, but it had been worth a shot.

"What is it?" Sheik asked, trying to appear innocent.

"The tracks," Link said, pointing at the deep grooves left in the dirt by horses' hooves and cartwheels. "They're going south, not north."

Sheik pretended to study the tracks for a moment before nodding. "Yes, you're right." He turned back to the northern road and took a few steps. "Let's go."

"Hey!"

Sheik breathed deeply before looking at Link, steeling his gaze. "We're not following them, Link."

Link's eyes widened for the fraction of a second, and then narrowed. "You...what are you saying? We're following the slavers so we can free the children. You said—"

"I said what I needed to so you would get moving," Sheik replied matter-of-factly. "I promised your father I'd get you to safety, and that is what I'm doing."

"But, the kids—"

"Link, look at us!" Sheik gestured at their respective outfits, muddy and torn. Link's feet were bare and bleeding from dozens of little cuts and punctures from the stones in the road. "We're in no condition to take on a bunch of bandits and live. What, you thought two daggers and a dented silver sword would be enough? We're both dead on our feet!"

"You said you could sneak into the camp and rescue them!"

"Not like this," Sheik said, gesturing to himself once again. "These clothes are useless for sneaking...and, frankly, I am not all that keen on risking my life on a fool's errand. Now come, we head north, to Castle Town. There we can rest and recuperate, and then head on to—hey, come back!"

Link had begun to walk away mid-sentence, following the south-going road, ignoring Sheik's words.

"Link, we have to—"

"I'm going after them."

"Are you crazy? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I don't care! I'm not abandoning them! That might be the Sheikah way of doing things, but not mine!"

Sheik managed to grab Link's shoulder and turn him around, but the other boy slapped his hand away, glaring at him. "I promised your father I'd get you to safety," Sheik repeated, hoping that invoking his father's last words would have some sort of effect, but it only seemed to spur Link on. "You want to make me an oath-breaker, Link?"

"Not at all," Link said, a grin appearing on his face. "I may not know much about Sheikah in general, but I know honour is one of the things you cherish the most. You won't go back on your word, Sheik, I can tell."

_Oh, no..._

He'd found the loophole...

"So, I'm gonna keep going south...and you'll just have to come with me and keep me safe until I'm done with my business there."

"Or I could go north and wash my hands of everything to do with you and Ordon Village," Sheik challenged, crossing his arms. "After all, when you go and get yourself kidnapped and sold into slavery as well, there will be no more witnesses apart from myself. And I am very good at keeping secrets, Link...no one would ever have to know."

Link met his gaze for a good ten seconds, as if measuring him up. "You could," Link agreed with a nod, eyes shining in the twilight in a way that made them appear red, just like Sheik's own. "But you won't," he continued, "because you're not that bad of a guy, Sheik. I can tell."

"You don't know anything about me," Sheik reminded him. "This could all have been an act."

"Nah," Link snorted dismissively. "It isn't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Now, are you coming? We've kids to save."

Sheik considered his options for a minute or so, alternatively Link's rapidly retreating back and the northward road, wondering why on earth he was bothering anymore. He'd liked the young farmhand, but this was turning into more trouble than he was worth. He'd kept his promise to the old man anyway, hadn't he? Link was in relative safety now—the only danger being the one he willingly put himself in from this moment. As far as Sheik was concerned, Link was no longer his responsibility. Besides, if he got himself caught or killed by the slavers, then the whole issue of secrecy for the hunters was solved too. Either Link died, or he was sold into slavery, and who would believe a worthless slave's words about something like that?

No, he could easily turn north now and...and...probably get stopped by a Hylian patrol and arrested for vagrancy. Or they'd skip the arrest altogether and have his head lopped off and bury his body in a field somewhere. That was just as likely, really, in his current condition. He'd certainly not be let back into Castle Town on his own, and he'd be damned if he was going to beg his aunt for help.

He turned and began to follow Link at a slow pace, not wanting to give the Hylian an opportunity to be smug about seeing right through Sheik's bluff.

Some things were just unbearable.

* * *

"There they are. Looks like they're camping for the night."

"Indeed...and there are far more of them than I anticipated."

They were lying on their stomachs in the tall grass on a hill, overlooking the spot by the road where the slavers had set up camp for the night. An old, crumbling watchtower stood by the river, providing some shelter from the elements, though none of the slavers seemed interested in it. A large fire was blazing in the middle of the camp, with several smaller ones dotting the spots where the tents had been set up. There were two carts, filled to the brim with the children of Ordon, covered up so that passers-by wouldn't spot them. Not that anyone would dare approach the camp to begin with, given the heavily armed guards and patrols that circled the perimeter.

It was midnight, and by now Sheik had given up hope of being able to convince Link to leave this folly of a quest behind or that a passing Hylian army patrol would fall upon the slavers and annihilate them. They were too far south now for such patrols, and the closest garrison would be by the border to Marona, and the slavers could easily elude them by going keeping off the roads.

That meant it was up to the two of them to get the kids to safety.

 _Bugger me with a fish fork, I did not sign up for this,_ Sheik thought. _This is the_ _last time I let myself be drawn in by a handsome face. Even Lor is less trouble than this._

Still, he was here now, and he couldn't in good conscience abandon the kids or Link to their fates, no matter how much he wanted to. He had a feeling his mother would be twisting his ear off right now for even considering it. She'd nearly done it to Impa once, apparently, something he wished he could have seen.

"So, what's our plan?" Link asked, adjusting his position on the ground. He was lying on top of his sword, so the silver wouldn't reflect the light below and give them away.

"'Our' plan?" Sheik asked. "And here I thought you had the entire thing wrapped up." He sighed, brushing his hair, which had come loose during the run, out of his eyes. He'd dropped the thong somewhere, and it was already becoming a nuisance. "Look, there are at least fifty of them down there, not counting the ones in the tents. Even if I had my gear, which I don't, I'd have trouble getting through that without getting caught. There's no way I'll be able to open not one, but two cages full of frightened, crying children without arousing suspicion."

"Well, the two of us could do one cage each," Link said.

"We'd have to find some way to time it perfectly since they're on opposite sides of the camp," Sheik said, frowning. "But that's impossible without, again, alerting someone to our presence. The success of this rescue relies entirely on our ability to slip and out without being seen."

"I'm not leaving them," Link said firmly, as if anticipating another argument from Sheik. The Sheikah offered none. "So what do we do? You're a hunter—aren't there any kind of tricks you can do? Howl at the moon and call a bunch of lycanthropes to our aid?"

Sheik gave him a look. "You've read too many stories."

_Though...that would be a useful ability. I'll have to mention that to the twins the next time I'm at the Studio..._

He shook his head and studied the field below them once more, trying to find some sort of weakness or gaping holes in the slavers' security...and failing. They were far too good to be regular bandits...probably mercenaries or former soldiers. There were more than a few Hylians down there, he noticed. He didn't comment on that. He didn't know how Link would react to his countrymen selling their own. His gaze landed on the crumbling tower, and he could tell even from this distance that even _attempting_ to climb that thing would be the death of him and...and...

"That tower," he muttered, bumping Link's shoulder with his own. "What is it?"

Link's eyes narrowed as he thought. "Old lord's tower, I think. People usually stay away from it because it's crumbling or the...uh...the stories..."

Sheik nodded. "Stories? People believe it's haunted?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Lots of strange noises and fluttering in the dark, the sort of noises that could but definitely do not belong to owls or bats? Screams of bloody murder in the night? People avoid it just in case there's vengeful ghosts around?"

Link looked at him with raised eyebrows. "How'd you know?"

Sheik tried not to grin too widely. "You'll hear such stories about places like this all over the world," he said. "Tower's most likely infested with shriekers."

"Shriekers?"

"Nasty little flying critters," he explained. "Bat-like in flight, but bigger and with more teeth, more prone to attack people, especially if they're carrying torches and the like. They _despise_ light above everything else."

"You think the tower has any?"

"I hope so, or our rescue operation is going to come to an abrupt halt in the form of me leaving, because this is the only possible angle of approach I can think of." He paused, trying to think of the occasions he'd been forced to clear out shrieker lairs. It was nasty work, and time-consuming. Luckily, this wasn't an extermination mission. He could always come back later and finish the job. "They would normally be out hunting at this time of night...but the camp has probably forced them to stay indoors. We just need to startle them enough to take offence and deal with the threat directly."

"How do we do that?" Link asked.

"We throw a big damn torch right into their lair."

* * *

Sneaking around to the tower proved more difficult than Sheik thought it would be. The patrols were irregular, which strengthened his belief that the slavers, or at least the ones in charge of them, were former soldiers. With his lack of gear and weapons, he had to be extra careful not to get caught, and he had more than a few close calls before he finally reached the foot of the tower, which was listing to the side. A couple more years with strong winds and driving rain, and the thing would topple over.

He cast a glance around the camp once more, spotting the slave cart that had been assigned as his target. It was closer to the tower, and a relatively short sprint in a straight line from his position. Link would be close to the other one, ready to spring into action the moment he saw his opportunity. Sheik only hoped that the silver sword would be enough to keep the slavers and other potential dangers at bay.

He shivered in the cool night air, rubbing his bare arms. He and Link had been forced to sacrifice the sleeves of their shirts to fuel the torches they'd made from the branches from a nearby tree. The flint to make the sparks had been difficult to find in the dark, but a small riverbed close to their hiding spot had yielded two small pieces. It had been years since Sheik had made fire this way—his tinderbox had been left in the tavern fire. He hoped he remembered how.

_Goddesses, it's cold...this better work..._

The stories had been a good indicator of the shriekers' presence, but the smell up close was a dead giveaway. A disgusting miasma of faeces, rotting meat, and that smell that was unique to shriekers—kind of sweet and sour at the same time. He was sure that if he climbed to the closest window and listened carefully, he'd hear the chittering of hundreds of the damned things. Hopefully, there were enough of them to deal with the slavers.

He struck his dagger against a piece of flint, and the first shower of sparks wasn't as much a shower as it was...well, one solitary spark that fizzled out immediately. "Stupid piece of shit..." He struck them together again and again, until the pitiful sparks finally managed to catch on the rough fabric of Link's shirt. It burned quickly, and Sheik lit the other torch before rearing back and throwing both of them through the open window of the first floor, praying that it was the right story.

The next few moments were tense, as nothing seemed to happen before...

Then the chittering started, growing in volume and intensity as the creatures realised that someone had violated the sanctity of their lair with poisonous light. And then they took flight. They poured out of every window in the tower, at least a hundred of them, the size of cats, hairless and pale-skinned, leathery wings and maws filled with more teeth than a lamprey, all absolutely _pissed off_ by the presence of light both in- and outside their lair. The large fire in the middle of the camp was like a giant beacon, which painted the slavers as a humongous target.

And the shriekers swooped in.

Chaos broke out immediately, the slavers not understanding what the hell was happening until they had a face full of teeth and claws, screaming in pain as the claws went for their eyes.

Sheik wasted no time, taking off running around the tower and heading straight for the covered cart, ducking and leaping to avoid the blows of shrieker and slaver alike. He jumped just in time to avoid a shrieker that was diving for him, which slammed into the back of a slaver instead and sent him tumbling face-first into one of the smaller cooking fires, shrieking like a stuck pig.

He twisted his ankle when he landed, but Sheik didn't care. The cart was twenty paces away...ten paces... One of the slavers spotted him, made to warn his friends, but Sheik's dagger in his throat cut his shout off abruptly, and rewarded Sheik with the man's two-handed axe. It was a far too heavy weapon for Sheik to wield effectively...but he only needed it for one thing.

The cart's guards were gone, too busy trying to fend off the angry, flappy things that were tearing out eyes and throats left and right to bother with a few kids. That was their mistake. Sheik climbed into the back of the cart, and paused. The cage was wide, but low, leaving the ten or so children inside with no room to stand. They were forced to crawl and sit...and they were a pitiful sight. Crying and clinging to each other with fear. One of them spotted him immediately, and gave a startled cry.

"Shh," Sheik shushed, holding a finger in front of his lips. "My name is Sheik, and I'm here to rescue you."

"You're...you're the nomad," one of them, a little girl who couldn't be more than nine years old, said, her damp eyes locking with his. "You were at home..."

"And now I am here, getting you out. Stand back from the door."

It was a clumsy swing, and would have gotten him killed if he tried using it in combat...but it easily cleaved through the thick padlock. He threw the door open and was nearly knocked down by the veritable tidal wave of children that flowed out of the cage. They tried to hug him and cling to him, and it was difficult to push them away.

"Look, we can't stay here. I need you to follow me closely, and stick to my heels, all right?"

It took several minutes, but he was finally able to get them out of the cart and immediately head for the outskirts of the camp. By now, dozens of the slavers lay dead, and the shriekers had one hell of a feast laid out for them...if they could get rid of the rest of the slavers. The two sides were far too busy trying to exterminate each other to notice that one of the cages had been emptied out. Sheik prayed that none of the shriekers spotted the bite-sized treats that were hobbling away. In the distance, he swore he could see a similar procession heading away from the other cage, but he couldn't be certain.

Link was already waiting by their appointed rendezvous point on the hill, the other gaggle of children with him, though these were a little older than the ones with Sheik. Some were siblings, and immediately clung to each other, or to Link. One five-year-old had his arms wrapped around Sheik's neck, practically choking him, but there was little he could do about it.

"Time to go, don't you think?" Link asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," Sheik replied.

It was slow going, but soon enough they were on their way back north, leaving the burning slaver camp behind, with the screams and horrendous shrieking.

* * *

The next few hours felt like a dream. Sheik wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion from the heavy work, fighting, and chasing earlier that day, or if it was the immense relief of having been able to rescue the children after all, but he could barely tell how far they'd gone, his feet trudging along by themselves as his ears were filled with the chatter and cries of the children, who were alternatively excited by their rescue, happy at the sight of Link (whom they all loved), or devastated by the deaths of their parents. Only once or twice did the two hunting partners exchange glances, unsure of what to do now.

Before Sheik knew it, dawn came, and the road they were walking along was becoming quite familiar. The tracks in it certainly were, as were the smoke plumes in the distance...though these had gone from black to white, meaning the fires were dead or dying. Why on earth they were heading back to Ordon, Sheik didn't know, but he was content to let Link lead the way for now. Sooner or later, he'd drop dead anyway...or so it felt like anyway.

Then they heard it, the thundering of horse hooves on the approach. Sheik's heart plummeted for a moment—the slavers had caught on to what was happening and were chasing them...but then he realised the sounds were coming from the north, not the south, which meant...

Hyrulian banners appeared first over the hill, and then the soldiers came racing towards them, an entire regiment, slowing abruptly upon spotting the children. The riders circled them, forcing the children to clump around and cling to Link and Sheik.

"Who are you?!" one of the soldiers demanded. "Identify yourselves!"

"Can't you bloody see who we are?!" Link growled, none-too-happy about the way they were scaring the kids. "We're the survivors from Ordon!"

Comprehension dawned upon the soldiers, judging by their wide eyes as they took in the filthy appearances of them all. Soon enough, a camp had been set up and the regiment medics were tending to the children. Link and Sheik were taken to the regiment's colonel.

"We saw the smoke on the horizon," he explained, "and we rode out immediately. We got there too late; most of the village was gone by the time we arrived. We were following the tracks when we came across you and your...friend." He glanced at Sheik, dislike apparent in his expression. "What happened out there?"

"Bandits attacked," Link said, sounding exhausted. He was slumped in the chair he'd been provided by the colonel's assistant, looking ready to fall asleep at any moment. "Took the children...we gave chase."

"I haven't heard of any Sheikah living in Ordon," the colonel said, looking at Sheik. His gaze was almost comically hostile. "When did he arrive?"

"They weren't regular bandits," Sheik said, realising that he needed to prove that he was not connected to the attack in any way. "They were slavers, taking the children south to be sold on the markets of Marona."

"Slavers?" the colonel's assistant said, sounding disgusted. "Barbarians!"

"There were Hylians among them."

"How did the two of you save the children all by yourselves?" the colonel asked. "By my count, there had to be at least thirty or forty of them—"

"Over fifty, actually," Sheik corrected him. He wasn't feeling very well himself actually, and he, like Link, was all too ready for some bloody sleep.

"And how did you rescue them?" the colonel repeated.

"We snuck into their camp and stole them from under their noses," Link explained, giving Sheik a glance. "Aided by a...a few ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"Colonel, the boys are clearly exhausted," the healer who was tending to Link's bloody feet said. Her eyes held no hostility when looking at Sheik, which was a big point in her favour. "Nothing they say will make any sort of sense. They need rest and food. I suggest we take them all back to the fort, where they can rest and recuperate. This one's feet need to stay off the ground for a few days as well."

"Hmph, I suppose," the colonel said, nodding slowly. "Very well. Put them on the cart, and we'll head back immediately. Prepare a carrier pigeon—the princess needs to be informed that we have bloody slavers infesting our lands. Lieutenant!"

"Sir?"

"Take a hundred men and go south. Find the slavers, and capture them. They'll be swinging in every gibbet from here to Castle Town when I'm done with them."

"Yes, sir!"

Sheik tried to remain focused on the situation, but the fatigue of the past day and night were catching up with him, and he was only vaguely aware of someone lifting him out of his seat and carrying him away before he finally let the oblivion of sleep claim him.

* * *

There was no greater comfort than the sight of the sturdy walls of Castle Town as they came into view at midday. They crested the hill and rode towards the gates, heartened by the knowledge that they would soon be able to rest properly. The week had been a busy and long one—endless interrogations by the colonel and his men, the slow recovery from their exhaustion, and the long ride to the city.

"About time," Link grumbled. "I think I'm about to develop saddle sores."

Sheik didn't reply. He was trying to ignore the stone in his stomach, which was getting heavier and heavier the closer they got to the city.

It had been a silent agreement between the two of them that they would travel together to Castle Town after being released from the colonel's custody once he was satisfied with their story. He'd lingered terribly long on Sheik's involvement, trying to find a way to pass the blame off on him as a spy for the slavers or something equally horrible, but Link had staunchly defended Sheik's role in first defending against the attack and then devising a strategy for rescuing the children, leaving out the fine details such as the shriekers.

The deal made sense. Link had no home to return to. Ordon had burnt completely to the ground, the colonel had confirmed, and he had no other relatives to stay with. What he would do once they got to Castle Town, however, was up in the air. Link himself had made no mention of having any plans, but Sheik felt it would too forward of him to ask. There was a question he wanted to ask, but after everything that had happened...well, he doubted Link wanted to have anything to do with it.

He'd be more than happy to help Link find proper work, of course. He was a friend of the princess; there had to be a way to take advantage of that fact and manoeuvre Link into an advantageous position with a little leverage from that angle...

...but he didn't want Link to go away. He wanted Link to stay, despite how he'd manipulated Sheik into the foolishness of a rescue operation. Really, he'd no right to complain in that respect, he'd tried to manipulate Link when motivating him to leave Ordon in the first place, so...

The gate guards halted them. Sheik had lost his pass to the city in the fire in Ordon, but the colonel had been gracious enough to issue them both with papers to enter the city, on the condition that they deliver their borrowed mounts and equipment to the local garrison when they arrived. This was quickly accomplished soon after they entered the city itself...and then they were free, more or less.

Strolling through the streets, blindly almost, they were both lost in their thoughts.

"I should have stayed with them," Link said suddenly.

"Who?"

"The kids. They're afraid, they've lost their parents...and I just left them there with the army."

"What were you supposed to do?" Sheik asked. "You can't take care of them all by yourself. You don't have the money or any other means with which to do so. The army will take good care of them until the convoy reaches the city, and then they will stay at the orphanage."

"It's that easy, huh?"

Sheik paused, raising an eyebrow. "Of course it isn't _easy_ ," he said. "But it's the only option. You can't just _hope_ that the next village over will gladly take them all in. They will be informed of course, but we can't count on it."

"Hmph."

"So..."

"So what?"

Sheik wasn't sure how to start his question. It seemed too...inappropriate, in the light of everything. But still...it had to be asked. "What will you do now?"

Link blinked, his mouth opening and closing for a few moments before he looked away. "I...I don't know."

Sheik nodded, having expected that. "Well...if you'd like, I can help you find work here in the city. I have connections that will surely come in handy."

"Yeah? You'd do that for me?"

Sheik rolled his eyes. "For the man who saved my life on a hunt and vouched for me in the face of an army colonel? It's the least I can do."

Link looked like he was about to say something at the mention of the hunt, but he quickly closed his mouth once more, only muttering a quick "Thanks" when Sheik finished.

"In the meantime," Sheik continued, "we will need to find a place for you to stay. I don't have any money on me at the moment, but I could lend you some once I've been to my office. Until then, you can get some rest at a...a place I frequent whenever I start to feel isolated."

"Isolated?"

"I enjoy my privacy, but sometimes even a Sheikah craves some social interaction. You can stay there on my tab until we find you proper work."

"Okay..."

It was a spontaneous decision, but the only one Sheik could think of as well. He didn't have much spending money left of his monthly allowance, and what little he did have would certainly not be enough to keep Link with quarters until he found work. None of the other inns or taverns would be cheap enough, nor would they rent out to Link in Sheik's name...so there was only _that_ place left. His tab there was already paid for and ready to be filled once more, so... He only hoped Link wouldn't object to the place.

His stomach still continued to roil as he led Link through Castle Town and into the seedier parts of the city. Link didn't find this strange—had it not been here he'd med Sheik the first time, after Eren found him? He was practically getting used to the place, now. He did seem surprised, however, when Sheik took a side street he hadn't seen before, leading him towards a large building with red lights in every window.

"What's that?" Link asked, blinking in a way that seemed far too innocent until Sheik was struck by a thought. Perhaps Link had been too busy with work and bandit attacks to be...to have...

"It's...a type of inn," he tried to explain, definitely worried about how the Hylian would react. "I have a deal with the owner—a permanent room, free food, and such..."

"Really? That's amazing! How'd you get that?"

"Uh...I dealt with some unruly customers once. She was quite grateful after that and ensured that a room would always be available I needed it." He decided not to be too specific about the event in question. It had been...unpleasant for everyone involved. "Anyway, I figured you could use the room for a while."

"Thanks, Sheik. Really."

"No need to thank me."

Link's hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he almost gasped when the Hylian nearly pushed him into the wall. "I have every reason to thank you, Sheik. You saved my life in the field, you helped me when...when mom and dad..." He trailed off, eyes moistening until he shook his head rigorously. "You helped me save the others from slavery—"

"Only because you refused to come with me—"

"Still! You helped me then, and you're still helping me now. I feel like...I really owe you, you know?"

"Link, you don't owe me anything—"

"I do, and I've been...thinking." Link hesitated, and then lowered his head slightly. "Can I join the hunters?"

"Pardon?"

"I want to become a hunter," Link said, repeating himself. "I owe you a lot, Sheik, and I feel that is the best way I can repay you—by helping you guys hunt beasts. If you don't think I'm good enough, that's fine, but—"

"You've more than proved yourself in that area," Sheik assured him. He gently pushed the Hylian towards the brothel (what else could he call it, after all?), noting that Link's footsteps were heavy and slightly dragging. He was tired from the travelling, and his feet were still healing. "But this is not a decision to be made when one is exhausted. Let us rest up for a few days, and then we can have a long discussion about it, yes?"

"I guess..." Link sounded disappointed. That was troubling. Sheik wanted him to really give the idea of becoming a hunter every single scrutiny he could, to analyse the benefits and drawbacks of beginning a new life that would be as awesome as it was terrible. To be so eager after a single hunt and an emotionally devastating event like the one in Ordon...it smacked of desperation in trying to find a new purpose...and Sheik wasn't about to let Link haphazardly choose his new direction in life like that.

"I have some reports to make and such anyway, and won't be around very much."

"Yeah..."

Sheik sighed.

The Temple of Wondrous Treasures, which was possibly the worst name for such an establishment Sheik had ever had the misfortune of encountering, was surprisingly busy for the time of day. Sheik usually found it best not to ask in cases like this, so he simply placed the heavily blushing Link in the corner furthest from the entertainment (as it were) and went to find Madame Rosa (which surely had to be a false name) to discuss the details of Link's stay.

* * *

Link fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, trying not stare too overtly at the activities happening around him. He wasn't so naïve that he didn't understand what sort of place Sheik had taken him to. A brothel was a brothel, after all, but he'd never actually been _inside_ one, much less taken too close looks at the men and women working there.

It was...kind of exciting? The scantily clad workers were talking and laughing with their clients; some shared meals and drinks. A pair was kissing in a corner, hands roaming across each other excitedly. Link forced himself to look away. This was where he was going to stay? How would that even work? Did Sheik expect him to _work_ here?

Or...did Sheik... No, Sheik had regular work as a hunter, surely...but he _did_ say he spent a lot of time here when he felt isolated. Did that mean that he purchased...rented...hired...?

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He hadn't thought of Sheik as the kind of person who frequented such establishments, but then...how much did he really know about him?

Absolutely nothing, actually.

Link felt stupid. He'd been too dazzled by the young man's good looks to realise that he was possibly setting himself up for either one hell of a disappointment, or getting himself too deep into a whole heap of trouble that he'd never be able to crawl his way out of. This place was certainly starting to feel like one, and what was he going to—

"Hi there, cutie. You all alone? Want some company?"

Link looked up, and nearly gasped. The young man in front of him was wearing practically nothing save for an outrageously short skirt and a revealing vest-like type of garment...though it was really just a strip of fabric wrapped around his shoulders, if he was being completely honest. It only served to accentuate the lean, beautiful physique of the body it covered. He looked to be about his and Sheik's age, perhaps a bit younger. There was a vivid, black tattoo on the boy's cheek, and he had the brightest green eyes Link had ever seen. His black hair was long and kept back in a loose ponytail, a pair of bangs framing his face in a most attractive manner that surely drew the attention of every so-inclined customer in the place.

"Uh...I...er..."

"First time in a place like this?" the boy asked, sliding into the seat next to him, smiling warmly. "Overwhelming, isn't it? Let me guess, you're not from Castle Town?"

"Uh...no...I'm—"

"A farmer, right? I can usually tell." He reached out and gently touched Link's arm, squeezing lightly. "Certainly farmer's muscles...hm, you here for something special?"

Link couldn't find the words. He was too panicked (or interested) by the...the...whore? The...person of negotiable affection next to him.

"We cater to a wide variety of customers," the boy continued. "You only need to say what you want, and we will provide it. So...do you like women? Men? Perhaps both?" He continued rubbing Link's arm, leaning in close. "Or...me, perhaps?" He grinned. "You _do_ like me, don't you? What's your name, stranger?"

"L-Link..."

"That's a nice name...a nice name for a handsome boy. Mine's Lor. Would you perhaps like to go upstairs—"

"No, he most definitely would _not_ like to go upstairs with you, Lor," Sheik's voice, constrained and stiff with anger, said as the Sheikah suddenly appeared in front of them, glaring down at them. "Look at him, he's terrified!"

Contrary to how most people would react to such unprovoked anger, Lor simply grinned and flew out of his seat, wrapping his arms around Sheik's neck and planting a big kiss on the Sheikah's cheek. "Sheik, you're back! It's been forever since you last came around here!"

Sheik pushed him away, but Lor remained glued to his side. "I've been busy," he explained, blushing when he realised Link was staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. "Working, and all that. Please get off me."

"I'm not letting go of my favourite Sheikah ever again," Lor said happily.

"Let go, or I'll call Rosa over and tell her you're harassing me."

That made him let go, pouting as he did so. "You're such a meanie, you know that?"

"Seeing through your tricks doesn't make me mean, Lor, now drop the act." He turned his attention to Link, smiling apologetically. "Sorry about this, Link...it's something you'll have to get used to if you're going to stay here for a while. This is Lor—a friend of mine."

Lor bowed theatrically, exposing quite a bit of himself to the patrons behind him, who whooped appreciatively. "That's five rupees from each of you," Lor told them with a grin before turning his attention back to Link and Sheik. "Nice to meet you, Link. Sorry about the act...it's my job, you know?"

"That's okay," Link said, not really able to keep up with all the details. His mind felt like mush, and he was tired. All he wanted to do right now was to lie down and have a nap...and think about becoming a hunter. "It's nice to meet you too, Lor." He refrained from asking if he and Sheik slept together. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know.

"So he's staying here?" Lor asked Sheik, who nodded. "He taking your room?"

"For the moment," Sheik confirmed. "Until...he makes a decision. Or we find him some work."

"Oh, he's a...a potential, then?" Lor asked.

"A _potential_ potential, yes. We've been through a lot in the past week, though, and right now we're just going to focus on recovering our strength."

"Oh, then you should both stay here!" Lor exclaimed. "We have some masseurs here that will make you _melt_!"

"Link is more than welcome to make use of any...services he would like," Sheik said, hesitating as he spoke and studying Link's face closely. "I have cleared it with Rosa. I, on the other hand, have some business to attend to. I will be back sometime tonight. Until then, Link, try to get some rest." He handed the Hylian a key. "Third floor, fourth door on the left. Meals will be brought to the room if you wish."

"Thanks."

That was all Link said before he immediately headed for the stairs, nearly bumping into a waitress carrying a tray laden with drinks. He really was exhausted...and not just from the travels, Sheik suspected.

"Is he drunk?" Lor asked, frowning.

"Just tired," Sheik said. "He's...been through a lot, as I said. His village was burned to the ground and his...well, his family is gone."

"Oh..."

Lor fell silent, because the story rang very similar to his own. Sheik didn't comment, he only turned to his friend and leaned in close, speaking quietly.

"Could you keep an eye on him while I am gone?" he asked. "Just...make certain he is all right?"

Lor gave him a look that slowly turned understanding. "Sure, I'll keep an eye out. What do I do if he wants to...you know, hire—"

"Let him do as he pleases, as long as he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else, or runs my tab into the ground," Sheik said quickly. "Thank you, Lor." He kissed the other boy's cheek quickly, making Lor giggle. "I'll be back tonight...or tomorrow morning, possibly."

"All right. Take care, Sheik."

"You too."

Lor watched him leave, and then looked to the stairs. A smile was slowly spreading on his lips. Oh, this was going to be _fun_...


	5. The Toast

Sheik watched Zelda as she paced around her office, muttering angrily under her breath. He couldn't make out exactly what she was saying, but he definitely heard the words "slavers" and "animals" mixed in with several expletives that her father and Impa would immediately have admonished her for using. Sheik felt no urge to do so. He'd always encouraged her to expand her vocabulary, after all.

Outside the window, the sun had begun to set. The light had yet to turn crimson, casting instead a deep golden colour over everything. The courtyard below was completely devoid of activity save for the occasional castle worker leaving through the gate, off-duty and on their way home.

Sheik glanced at Zelda's desk, finding that the piles of paperwork and other things she had yet to attend to had not shrunk one bit since he'd last been in here three weeks earlier. Studying her figure, he was disappointed to see that she appeared to have lost weight again. For a moment, he found himself wishing he were still her protector, if only for the ability to _force_ her to take a break and eat something. Whoever was attending to her these days apparently wasn't up to the job, or hadn't been able to convince the princess of the necessity of sustenance, at the very least.

Zelda happened to look at him right then and, recognising the look on his face and quickly deducing what he was frowning about, scowled. "I _am_ eating, you know."

"Clearly not enough," he countered. "When was the last time you actually took a proper meal in the dining room?"

"What does it matter where I take my meals?"

"Being surrounded by work that needs to be done is not conducive to proper rest and taking one's time with the food," he said, looking pointedly at the mountains of paperwork on her desk. "You'll feel stressed, and possibly even postpone your supper in favour of finishing _just one more report_...and continue to do so for the whole evening." He shook his head. "I don't have much faith in your current caretaker."

Zelda's scowl deepened. "Now _there's_ something I don't miss about having you around here all the time," she said. "The way you treat me like a child."

"Act like one, get treated like one," he said, raising an eyebrow. "It is a sad state of affairs when someone younger than you has to tell you that."

They held each other's gazes for a few seconds, before identical grins broke out on their faces, and Zelda laughed. "All right, all right," she said, nodding. "I'll...I'll try to remember. It's just...there's so much to do, and I have so little time—"

"Which is why you should trust your council with at least _some_ of the day-to-day business of the realm," Sheik said, taking a seat without asking for permission. Impa would have had a fit if she knew, but she wasn't here, was she? "As it is, they are simply being paid for...well, doing absolutely nothing, I'd say."

"My father did that, as I recall," she said and taking a seat herself. "They nearly ran the kingdom into the ground without his knowledge. It took him years to repair the damage they did under his nose." She reached for the teacup on the desk and took a sip, grimacing. "Eugh, cold. Why is it always cold?" Sheik didn't comment. She rifled through some of the papers in front of her until she found the one she was looking for. "There...well, suffice to say I was rather alarmed when I received this report from Colonel Kato. Especially the section where he wrote of his suspicion concerning a certain Sheikah who'd been found herding a group of children along the highway." She frowned. "Do we know who the slavers were?"

"I'm afraid not," he said apologetically. "From what I understand, at least _some_ of them were part of the bandit group that has been harassing Ordon Village for years, but Link seemed surprised by their numbers. I counted at least seventy in their main camp, though none wore any identifying marks or colours. I suspect a temporary alliance was made between several different bandit groups, to cooperate in a...new venture, as it were."

"Slavery." The word could not have been spoken with more venom.

Sheik nodded. "They were confident in their ability to move quickly, making their camp so close to the road. It was only luck that allowed us to create a distraction and get the children out of there."

"For which I will be eternally grateful," Zelda said, clenching her jaw. "In the report, Kato states that he sent you and...Link was it?"

"Yes."

"He sent you and Link on your way to Castle Town with borrowed horses and equipment. And you came to report to me immediately?"

Sheik nodded and gestured to the borrowed Hyrulian army uniform he was still wearing. He hadn't even stopped by his office to change into his own clothes. "I believed time to be of the essence."

"And it is," Zelda agreed. "I have already ordered Kato to go south and keep a close eye on the border. If any of the slavers try to leave or enter Hyrule, he will be waiting for them. I've also considered building some fortifications, to increase security. We haven't been in hostilities with Marona for over a century, but if their slave markets have started to lure in _our_ criminals...well..."

"They might take it as a provocation, however," Sheik reminded her. "Having an army so close to their border."

"They may take it however they please," she said, clenching her fists on the desktop. "I have no intention of letting _anyone_ make slaves of _my_ people! If that means cleaning up _their_ rubbish as soon as it crosses into my kingdom, so be it. I have already made it quite clear to King Zolger that I will _not_ tolerate such activities here." She downed the cold cup of tea and grimaced again. "Anyway, this isn't the sort of topic I wish to bother you with, Sheik. How is Link? Where is he now?"

Sheik didn't really consider it any trouble, but nodded nevertheless. His time as her advisor was over. "He's...safe. I've put him up in an inn where he can get some rest and think things through. He lost his entire family in the attack, and he's feeling a bit lost, I think. He asked me if he could become a hunter, but..."

"He's not good enough?" Zelda asked, surprised. "I thought he killed a lycanthrope with one shot?"

"I can easily see him having the talent for it," Sheik said, not about to downplay Link's act of saving his life. "He _does_ have the talent for it, not to mention the bravery. But that might not be enough, seeing as my aunt will have to accept him."

"You don't think Impa will?"

He shrugged. "She won't really have a choice but to accept him," he said. "Our numbers are dwindling, and we're losing hunters faster than we can recruit them. No, I'm certain Link won't have any trouble passing the tests, but what if he changes his mind once he learns what sort of life it is? So far, he has only seen the...well, the only part of it that could be called _glamorous_. He hasn't experienced weeks of slogging through wet marshlands in search of a fogger that's been drowning children in the bog, or the unbridled hatred received from entire villages _just_ because you failed to slay a chimera before it killed their alderman...or been forced to confront your worst nightmares brought on by a banshee..." He shook his head for the millionth time that day. "No, I want Link to truly understand what he will be getting himself into before he asks me again."

"That is...understandable," Zelda said with a nod, adjusting her spectacles. There was a slight tremor to her, which Sheik recognised as her getting excited. Her desire to be a hunter had never truly been crushed by her father, but at least she had stopped asking. She still _lived_ for the stories Sheik and Impa would share with her, however, warts and all. "Where is he staying?"

"What does it matter?" he asked.

"Well, I would certainly like to meet the young man who saved my little brother's life and thank him properly. I imagine a reward is in order for having saved children of the realm, as well, which will surely come in handy seeing as he's lost everything he ever had." She raised an eyebrow. "Or is that in poor taste?"

"I don't think it is," Sheik said slowly, not sure if Link was ready to meet his princess given his rather fragile state at the moment. "But...I am not sure if he will be able to handle going to the castle at the moment. His feet are still recovering—"

"Then I shall come to him," Zelda announced. "It has been a while since I was out and about on the streets, anyway. I fear the citizens have forgotten what I look like, even, and...and..." She trailed off, having noticed the size of Sheik's eyes. They'd widened considerably when she said she would come to Link, to the point of nearly popping out. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"N-No, I just don't...I don't think it would be appropriate for a princess to...to..."

She hadn't seen Sheik this flustered in years, and it took Zelda a good minute to remember a particular detail about her little brother's life that could possibly have him so bothered. She blushed. "The whorehouse? Really?"

"I didn't have any money on me," Sheik defended himself, blushing as well. "And I have a free room there, remember? I figured it would be fine to have him stay there for a little while—"

"But a whorehouse? _Your_ whorehouse?!"

Sheik wasn't sure what he took most exception to. Was it the outrage at the very idea of staying in a brothel, or the implication that the place somehow belonged to _him_? "It's not _my_ whorehouse," he said. "And Link doesn't seem like the type to...you know..." He blushed even more now. "And I've asked Lor to keep an eye on him—"

"Lor?" Zelda asked. " _The_ Lor? The one you said could make your eyes cross—"

"I did _not_ say that!"

"Not when sober, at least."

Sheik buried his face in his hands, realising he'd made a big mistake in telling this to Zelda.

_Last time I drink with her, I swear..._

* * *

Link stared at the wall, as he had done since entering the room and sitting down on the bed. There wasn't much else he _could_ do. His mind was too preoccupied with the images of Ordon burning that had been branded to his memory. His father, split open like firewood, gasping his last, bloody breaths, apologising for not saving his mother. His mother...he'd never seen her body, but his father had been so devastated, so broken...she was most certainly dead.

He wasn't sure when the tears had begun to fall, but by now his cheeks were wet, his vision blurred, and his eyes red and raw. It was like some sort of plug had been removed; the dam had burst. He'd been too busy trying to rescue the village children, healing from his long journey with Sheik, travelling to Castle Town...he'd never had the time or privacy to truly _feel_ the loss, and now it was _all_ he could do. Even breathing was difficult at this point, coming out in short gasps and sobs.

How much time had passed? He had no idea. The sun was setting outside, but it was late in the year—the days always grew shorter. Below, in the brothel, the din of the customers had been increasing in volume, but most of all he heard the blood throbbing in his ears, the heartbeats clapping against the inside of his chest like a drum...and it _hurt_. It hurt so damn much he wasn't sure if he'd even survive the night. He couldn't stand it!

He was alone. Utterly alone. He had no one else to call kin left in the world. His mother, his father, his uncle, his...his sister...all gone...

A strangled sound came from within his throat, turning into a quiet whine as a fresh bout of tears ran down his cheeks, the sobs tearing through him with renewed strength. The whine grew in volume, his throat aching and burning as it turned into a desperate howl, forcing him to bury his face in the pillow to stifle it, and not bother anyone.

Alone...

He didn't want to be alone. His short stay in Castle Town while looking for work had been so lonely...he didn't fathom how people could stand it. Even Sheik had said he felt isolated sometimes, and came here...

Sheik.

He wished Sheik was here, if only to lend an ear and listen, or just _be_ there...fill up the empty space of the room. To...touch him. Touch his shoulder, to comfort...hold him while he cried...

Someone knocked on the door, and it took him a good ten seconds to realise the sound hadn't been his blood rushing through his ears. He hastily wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve, which soaked it through, but rather than look like a wreck. "C-Come in," he said, his voice cracking slightly. He forced a weak smile to his lips, wondering if Sheik was back already. Hoping.

However, it was Lor who stepped through the door, expertly balancing a tray with a pair of bowls and two goblets on one hand, and a carafe of some sort on the other. He gave Link a quick once-over, nodding to himself as if he'd just confirmed something. "I figured you would like some food about now," he explained, closing the door. How he'd opened it in the first place with both hands busy, Link didn't know, and while he wasn't particularly hungry he was happy to have something other than his own misery to focus on. "It's not fancy, but you didn't strike me as someone who cares all that much about it."

Lor was dressed more sensibly than he'd been when they'd met a few hours earlier. Normal trousers and a tight-fitting shirt that covered up a great deal more than his skirt-like outfit from before. His feet were bare, for some reason, but Link didn't ask.

There was a small table in the corner of the room, with a pair of chairs. Lor quickly set the tray down on the table and removed the cloth that had been covering the bowls. The aroma of onions was quick to fill the room.

"Vegetable soup," Lor explained, scratching his neck embarrassedly. "We're having some issues with the butchers, so we eat a lot of greens these days."

"That...that will be fine," Link said, clearing his throat to remove the distinctly gravelly tone that hours of crying had forced upon his voice. "I like vegetables."

Lor smiled, as if he didn't see how much of a wreck Link was at the moment. "I figured as much. Sheik's not overly fond of them—he considers them a side only, apparently." He motioned to the chair he'd just pulled out. "Please, have a seat."

Link thanked him and sat down, surprised when Lor then unfurled a cloth napkin and placed it on his lap. The carafe turned out to contain water, which Lor expertly poured into their goblets. After that, he was apparently satisfied with the preparations and made to sit in the chair opposite the table. "I hope you don't mind if I join you," he said. "I just finished my shift, and I'm starving." He did pause just before his bottom touched the chair, however, giving Link the opportunity to ask him to leave.

But Link didn't want to be alone. Not now. So he simply nodded. "Please, join me."

Lor grinned brilliantly at that, and immediately dug into his soup, slurping it down with gusto. Link ate only a little, his stomach not all that interested in being fed at the moment. It was a pity, because the soup was quite good. Almost as good as his mother's, in fact. He shook his head, trying to banish the thought, but it had already done its damage by turning his frown even deeper.

"It's just hit you, hasn't it?"

He looked up sharply, finding Lor staring back at him with a sad look.

"Losing your family," Lor continued, as if reading Link's mind. "You've been keeping your thoughts busy up until now, but the second you were alone in this room...it all came crashing down on you, didn't it?" The black-haired boy shook his head, taking a sip of water. "And it feels like everything is just...hopeless. Am I right?"

Link nodded, not trusting his voice at all this time.

"I figured as much," Lor said, holding his gaze, like he was trying to convince Link that he wasn't _pitying_ him. It certainly felt like it, but...there seemed to be some sort of understanding in those green eyes of his as well. The tattoo on his cheek twitched as Lor's jaw worked itself around for a bit, trying to find the proper words to use. "I...I was actually going to come up to see you right after Sheik left, but I thought it best to leave you in peace for a few hours, at least. It's a process, and a slow-going one at that, but...there's only one way to go about it." He finished his water and refilled his and Link's goblets. "But it _will_ get better—"

"How?" Link asked. "How will it get better?"

Where would he go? What would he do? Sheik had promised they'd discuss him becoming a hunter, but what if Sheik rejected him? What if the other hunters did? What could Link possibly do with himself then? The city had no use for him, and the farms around Hyrule would certainly not have the room or food to keep another farmhand around...especially not in these times, with so few viable harvests.

Lor's eyes widened slightly, but his sad smile remained. "It just will," he said calmly, as if that was the answer to every question that was burning Link at the moment. "I asked myself the same questions when I...when I was left alone." He didn't specify how that had happened, and Link was glad he didn't. More tragedy on top of his own was...well, it wouldn't be conducive to cheering him up. But perhaps that wasn't Lor's goal at the moment. Perhaps this was only meant to serve as a distraction, just for a little while. "Our circumstances are different, but the end result the same. I was left on my own in the city...and I ended up here."

Link's face must have darkened considerably just then, because Lor's hands came up defensively, as if trying to ward him off.

"Not that you will, of course!" he hastily said. "I'm just saying...it worked out well for me, and it will for you too!"

" _This_ is things working out well?" Link asked. "Working in a...a..."

"Whorehouse?" Lor supplied helpfully. "In a way, yes. I'm treated well here, I can pick and choose my clients, the pay is quite good...I have a comfortable life, and my job can be very...fun." He grinned a little. "It's nice when you get to do something you enjoy for a living." He grimaced at that, as if the words didn't taste quite right.

Link supposed Lor had a point, but still... "I don't think it's for me," he said carefully. "I can't imagine doing...this..."

"Nor am I saying you should," Lor said firmly. "The point I'm trying to make is that things will work out for you. Sheik said you have potential—I have never known him to say that about someone undeserving of the title of Hunter."

"How long have you known Sheik?"

He wanted to change the subject, to not be reminded that, despite Lor's assurances, his fate was completely up in the air at the moment, completely depending on Sheik's judgement. He was more interested in learning about Sheik himself.

Lor blinked, but smoothed his expression over. He'd clearly saw the rapid change in topic, but said nothing about it. "Oh...about two or three years now, I believe," he said. "Got to know him the same night he earned himself this room."

Link looked around the small, comfortable room. It had clearly been part of the establishment's...offices, but after Sheik had taken it over it simply looked like a normal room at an inn. There was some rather gaudy wallpaper in a shade of pink that couldn't be very conducive to an erotic atmosphere, but that was about it. "How'd he earn it?" he asked.

"Beat up a couple of thugs who tried to...make themselves comfortable," Lor explained. "We'd been struggling with them for a while, with their boss trying to muscle in on the territory, and our bouncers didn't dare touch them. I'm not sure why Sheik came strolling in that day, but he immediately took offence to the way the thugs were treating some of the girls." Lor grinned. "Five minutes later, and the thugs were gone. Sheik didn't even have to draw a blade to run them off, and they never came back, either. Apparently, it's bad luck to take over an establishment frequented by a Sheikah, so their boss gave up...and Rosa gave Sheik a permanent room so he'd stick around for future protection."

Link was mildly offended on Sheik's behalf at the idea that having a Sheikah around meant bad luck, but Madame Rosa, Lor, and the other employees didn't seem to share that belief with the thugs' boss. They just took advantage of it, and Sheik seemed happy to play along since it meant he had somewhere to go when he was...lonely. Or isolated, as he'd said.

And that led Link to his next question, which he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted answered or not for purely selfish reasons. He had never considered himself a prude (it wasn't a quality that was easily fostered on a farm), but at the same time this was so new and felt...a little dirty.

"Has Sheik ever...does he...?" It was difficult to get the words out, but Lor seemed to understand what he was trying to say, and frowned a little.

"Does it matter?" he asked, touching his tattoo with the tip of his index finger, poking at it. "Sheik is a man, just like any other. He has needs and urges...but given _what_ he is, I can't imagine it's easy to find willing partners." He frowned deeper at that. "Poor thing deserves an outlet, with the sort of stress he lives with every day."

"I'm not saying he shouldn't be allowed to," Link exclaimed a little too loudly, face growing red. "I'm just...curious..."

Lor raised an eyebrow at that, and Link hoped to the Goddesses that he didn't see through what was surely the most obvious reason for even asking about it.

"It's not my place to say," Lor said with a shrug, letting Link off the hook. "You should ask him yourself, if you're that interested." He glanced at Link over the rim of his goblet, candlelight reflecting from his eyes in an unnerving way. "You like him, don't you?" Link choked on his water, and took a good minute or so to stop coughing, even with Lor patting him heavily on the back. "I'm sorry," the younger boy said, grinning apologetically. "It was blunt, I know, but I figured you'd appreciate that over me mincing my words..."

He couldn't really pretend he hadn't reacted to the statement, and he figured that Lor, of all people, would be the last to judge him for it. He nodded shyly, his face lighting up in a blush so bright it was surely visible from the street. He'd suspected from the moment he'd seen Sheik's uncovered face that his attraction to the Sheikah had been a bit more serious than just that of a friend...it was similar to what he'd felt during the festival last year, but he hadn't dared act on it back then. But here...now...

...but if Sheik preferred to get his pleasure from this business...or if he even _liked_ the company of men...it was a confusing and conflicting series of emotions and thoughts that were passing through him at the moment...and he was so _tired_...

Lor simply grinned happily at the revelation. "You're too cute for words, you know that?" he asked cheerfully. "Have you ever been with someone? Like _that_?"

"...no."

The grin grew in size, and Lor chuckled. "Sorry, I just wanted some suspicions of mine confirmed." He seemed to pick up on Link's discomfort, however, and leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. He then seemed to decide on something, and stood up and walked over to the dresser by the door, pulling out on the drawers. Link watched him curiously, and blanched when a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid was withdrawn from the drawer. "I think we should have a toast," Lor said, not even pausing before filling his and Link's goblets.

Whatever it was, it was definitely not water. The smell burned his nose when Link tried to sniff at it. It reminded him of what his father had been making in one of the sheds back home. Vodka, was what he'd called it, or so Link thought.

"What are we toasting to?" he asked.

Lor looked thoughtful for a moment, before smiling. "To new beginnings," he said.

Link could agree with that. "To new beginnings," he said.

"And to gorgeous Sheikah boys!"

Choking on vodka was far worse than choking on water.

* * *

"Boss! You're back!"

Sheik didn't expect to be pounced upon by both Eren and Nikal the moment he stepped inside his office. If he hadn't recognised Eren's voice immediately, they'd be meeting a wall of razor-sharp blades instead of his (relatively) soft chest as they bore him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Oof!"

"We were worried!"

He could do little but stare at the nearly identical grins of the two street urchins who were sitting on him, beaming at him. Eren had a missing lower front tooth, presumably from a fight, and Nikal had a bruise under her eye. Sheik frowned. "Have you been fighting?" he asked.

"Just busting someone who tried to steal your stuff, boss," Eren said, his grin widening. "Bastards thought they could just waltz in and take it while you were gone!"

"But we beat 'em off," Nikal added. "One of the guys tripped and broke his nose on the bannister—it was hilarious!"

 _Ah, so that bloodstain_ is _new,_ he thought, recalling the out-of-place spot in his stairwell.

" _He_ tripped, or _you_ tripped him?" Sheik asked, raising an eyebrow before he pushed them both off his chest and stood up, trying not to smile too obviously under his cowl. "I don't really care either way, but I'd like to think that you managed to leave a mark on one of them." He paused. "And thank you for guarding my things."

They nodded and allowed him to enter his own office proper and seat himself at the desk. He let out a sigh and relaxed, sinking deeper into the chair. It hadn't been more than three weeks since he'd last been here, but he'd missed his little office greatly. It was small, dingy, the building around it was falling apart, it became damp when it rained and was freezing cold in the winter...but it was his. And most importantly, it was _secret_. That is, secret to most. The criminals of the neighbourhood knew exactly who and what he was, but they mostly left him alone because _of_ all that. Except the ones Nikal and Eren had had to chase away.

His little assistants had settled themselves on whatever surface they found comfortable. Nikal was lounging in the chair in front of the desk, legs dangling over one of its arms, and Eren was on his belly in front of the fire, staring into the flames as if utterly fascinated.

Sheik wasn't sure when they had started to rest like this, the three of them together. At first, Sheik had tried to keep the pair of them at a distance, so the wouldn't get too used to his presence or get to know him too closely, but the two orphans had a way of ingratiating themselves with most people...and _of course_ they'd used that gift on Sheik. It had almost become a tradition, for the three of them to simply lounge around Sheik's office every now and then, especially just after hunts.

Unfortunately, Sheik didn't have a lot of time on his hands at the moment, and opened his eyes after resting them for ten minutes or so. By then, Eren was already asleep, snoring softly on the floor. Nikal, however, was wide-awake, and paid rapt attention when his eyes landed on her.

"Anything interesting happen while I was away?" he asked.

"Other than the bastards trying to steal your stuff?" she said, shaking her head slowly. "Nothing concrete. There's some rumours, though."

"Rumours?"

"About noises in the sewers," she replied, adjusting herself in her seat so she could lean forward as she spoke, trying to hook Sheik on her narrative. "An unholy stench rises from the manholes now and then, accompanied by a soul-piercing shriek, like that of the dead clawing their way back from the beyond!" She grinned. "People keep saying they know someone who knows someone who disappeared, and all that could be found were pools of blood next to a sewer entrance..." She shook her head at that. "No direct witnesses, though."

Sheik listened, tapping his chin after removing his cowl (which was uncomfortably warm in this place, anyway). "Unholy stench...coming from a sewer?" He gaped and widened his eyes for theatrical effect, which had Nikal giggling. "Clearly the work of a monster!"

"All right, all right," she said. "But the shrieking and blood pools?"

"The blood pools are hearsay—until there's a direct witness rather than a friend of a friend, it is worthless as possible evidence. The screams, however...rats can be quite noisy, especially when in distress. Could that be what they heard?"

"Possibly, boss," Nikal agreed with a nod. "Could be just that...but the men I heard talking about it seemed _terrified_ of it...and the way they described it made it sound far from any kind of noise a rat could make, even when lit on fire or something like that."

"And how did they describe it?" Sheik asked.

"Don't rightly remember it all, but was something like...a scream, echoing through the tunnels, so piercing it made their legs go numb, their minds grow still, and their blood freeze. It sounded like a dying creature in immense pain, but filled with so much hatred it made them shiver...and as if all joy in the world had been sucked out of it." She rolled her eyes. "Theatrical, innit?"

But Sheik didn't grin with her this time. The description had sounded too familiar for it to be a joke. Or, rather, it _could_ have been a joke...but it was worth investigating, just to be certain. "Where did these rumours originate?" he asked.

"Around the old rotunda," Nikal answered. "That's where I've heard most of the gossip, at least."

"Hm," Sheik grunted and rose from his seat. "Then we should take a closer look, don't you think?" he asked.

"Sure thing, boss," Nikal agreed, noticing that Eren was still asleep and aimed a savage kick at his behind, which woke him with a yelp. "Get up, you lazy bum!" she shouted. "We've got work to do!"

* * *

The day was winding to a close, and most of the street vendors had long since packed up their booths and gone home. At peak hours, the square around the old rotunda would be packed with merchants and customers, trading in wares from around the world, but now only a few vagrants lingered, searching the gutters for lost rupees and coins, begging the remaining vendors for scraps.

It really was not the best time to be gathering information, at least not in terms of volume. During the day, Sheik was certain he'd find hundreds of individuals willing to recount their version of the supposedly "strange" events that took place in the area, and how they knew someone who knew someone who knew the victims. If he were lucky perhaps a dozen out of those hundreds would have anything useful to say, the rest wasting his time either on purpose or out of ignorance.

He strode through the square, flanked by Eren and Nikal, heading for the largest group of people he could see. They lingered in the shadow of the rotunda, ancient, partially collapsed ruins of a temple dedicated to the Goddesses. The name had been lost in the pages of history, so the citizens of Castle Town simply referred to its distinctive dome-like roof, half of which had collapsed under its own weight. It was a health hazard, really, but the landowner refused to tear it down due to its importance to history.

The vagrants looked up as Sheik approached them, his arms spread wide in a show of non-aggression. He only carried a single sword and pistol with him, so he wouldn't appear too threatening. He didn't need anything else, especially since he had no plans of going on a hunt tonight—he simply wanted information.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them as he came within earshot.

"Whaddya want?" the apparent leader of the group asked (though what exactly had put him in that position, other than his impressive collection of facial warts, Sheik did not know). He studied Sheik's appearance, pausing slightly at the cowl that covered his face, before homing in on his eyes. "Blood-eye," the man spat.

 _Oh, good, my eyes are still red,_ Sheik thought.

"That's a funny way to greet the man who's about to pay for your supper tonight," Sheik replied. "Or binge, wherever your preferences lie."

The man snorted and spat once more. His spit was an absolutely disgusting green-yellow colour, and the following snort hinted at some sort of sinus condition. "Don't want yer money, nomad. Piss off."

Sheik sighed and fished out one of the rupees he'd retrieved from the hidden safe in his office. His allowance was running low, but he had never been the biggest spender. Honestly, his biggest withdrawal this month had been Link's fee...which had been lost in Ordon.

"Not even this?" He asked and held the blue gem out so it caught the last rays of the sun, making it sparkle brilliantly, in the way that only the finest cut ones could. That immediately caught the attention of the vagrants' leader...not to mention his cronies. It'd probably pay for several binges, actually.

"Whaddya want?" the man asked again, though the razor-sharp edge to his voice had softened somewhat, proving that not even racial hatred could stand up to the power of money. There was a joke to be made there, but Sheik wasn't really in the mood.

"Information," Sheik said simply, stepping closer while motioning for Eren and Nikal to remain where they stood. He didn't want to put them at unnecessary risk, even though he strongly suspected he could take out the poorly fed group of vagrants on his own. "There are whispers of strange noises and disappearing people in this part of the city. Heard of it?"

"Maybe," the leader said, the corners of his working to keep a smile off his face. "What's it worth to you?"

Rolling his eyes, Sheik tossed him the gem. "This, and nothing more."

It was probably a mistake, giving up the money so easily, but Sheik was tired and wanted to sleep, and before he could do that he needed to check in on Link as well. Luckily, the vagrant leader seemed a man who kept a bargain, and he nodded.

"Aye, there's been disappearances. One of mine, in fact."

Sheik perked up. "Indeed? When and where did they disappear?"

"Few days ago, from this square." The leader snorted, coughed, and spat for the third time. Sheik forced himself not to look at the disgusting mess. "Pan. Good lad. Went off to cut a purse, and never came back. Found one of 'is shoes and a whole mess o' blood. Guards weren't interested in helpin' us, though, said he got hisself killed by another gang. As if! Pan wouldn't let no snot-nosed Avon street rat kill 'im!"

The gang agreed, patting each other's backs as if they were remembering past victories over this supposed rival gang. Sheik didn't care about that. He stepped closer and crossed his arms. "Where did you find the blood?" he asked.

"Down yon alley," the leader said, pointing at one of the many narrow dead-ends that sprouted from the square. "Looked a right mess, it did."

Sheik studied the mouth of the alley for a few moments before nodding to himself. "I see. Thank you, gentlemen," he said before stepping towards it.

"Hang on," the leader said, halting him in his tracks. "S'dangerous down there. You one of them hunters?"

Sheik didn't bother with an answer, and any desire the vagrant gang had to ask him further questions quickly disappeared when Eren and Nikal re-joined him, casting deadly glares in the gang's direction. It didn't take a genius to see that, small as they were, Sheik's little assistants were more than a little dangerous. Their curiosity didn't matter; they'd been paid for the information...and at a damn generous price, too!

"Think they were telling the truth, boss?" Eren asked once they were out of earshot and well into the narrow alley, formed by old, tired buildings on either side. It terminated in a crumbling, yet still solid brick wall—a remainder of a defensive wall from the _old_ Castle Town.

"I never mentioned any blood or sewer entrances," Sheik said. "Granted, they could have heard the same rumours as Nikal and simply regurgitated them, combined with some made-up member of their gang. Are they following us?"

"No, boss," Nikal said after glancing back at the gang. "They're leaving the square, actually."

That was good. It meant he had at least _one_ less fight to deal with before he could go to sleep. That, or someone else was waiting to ambush them, which he doubted due to the cramped nature of the alley. It wasn't a good ambush spot, at least not with a big group.

He smelled the open manhole before he saw it—an open, vaguely rounded hole in the cobbled alley. It was like walking into a wall, the smell immediately assaulting his poor nose and making his eyes tear up. Whatever the rumours spoke of the disappearances, at least the vagrants hadn't lied about the blood. There was quite a lot of it, splattered around the manhole...as well as an obvious drag mark from Pan (or whoever had been taken) being pulled into the sewers below.

Behind him, he heard Nikal gagging on the smell. He motioned for her and Eren to stay back. Neither of them obeyed, of course, despite how disgusted they were with the odour.

There was no real need to investigate now that he'd seen the proof for himself. Of course, Pan's death could easily have been caused by a rival gang, his corpse dropped into the hole...but he'd never heard of someone leaving a perfectly good pair of boots or shoes behind when they could easily be sold to the nearest cobbler. The vagrants' leader had said Pan's had been left behind...though Sheik had neglected to inquire about the state of them. He had a feeling they wouldn't be in the best shape, if his suspicions were correct. There was just one more thing he needed to have that suspicion confirmed, and—

As if on cue, a blood-curdling shriek, slightly dampened by the distance it travelled underground, emanated from the manhole. It sent shivers down Sheik's spine, and made him sigh heavily.

_Damn it...guess the hunt is on, then._

But not tonight. He was far too tired to be embarking on a hunt now...and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go looking for something down in the sewers by himself. Too many corners and dark places for his prey to hide.

"What was that?" Eren asked, doing his best to put on a brave face...but such a scream would put the fear in all but the most experienced of hunters and warriors.

"That, Eren, was the call of a skulker."

"Skulker?"

"No one's sure exactly what they are," Sheik explained. "Some sort of hybrid species, with a clear ancestor in the common sewer rat...only much bigger. They're relatively rare, but sometimes they tend to multiply in sewers like the ones in Castle Town."

"So...there's more than one of them down there?" Nikal asked.

"Most likely...hm...I've never heard a case of them being found in Hyrule, though...but then again, I'd never heard of lycanthropes in Castle Town either, and I was proven wrong on that account." He looked around and spotted the heavy manhole cover. "Give me a hand with that, will you?"

Together, they managed to lift the heavy iron lid and place it firmly over the manhole. Sheik wasn't sure if it'd be able to keep the skulkers from resurfacing, or how many other openings they had to emerge from all over the city. If there was a nest, there could be dozens of the things.

That, however, was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, he had a farmer to look in on, and some sleep to catch up with.

"That will be all for today," he said, flicking a pair of rupees at his two assistants, nodding. "Take tomorrow off—I know where to go."

"But, boss," Nikal said, "are you gonna hunt them alone?"

Sheik shook his head, smiling under his cowl. "No, I have a feeling I'll easily find a willing partner for this job. Good night, you two."

He watched them leave, ensuring that neither of them had the bright idea of investigating the place further...just in case the cover wasn't sufficient to keep the skulkers at bay. Then he began heading in the direction of the Temple of Wondrous Treasures, wondering if Link had been doing all right by himself that day...and if Lor had kept his big mouth shut.


	6. The Party (is Over)

The air was thick with pungent odours and heavy smoke that came in all the colours of the rainbow. In the corner, something was crackling with electricity every few seconds. Impa had no idea what its purpose was—as far as she could tell it was sparking just for the hell of it.

Almost every piece of open space in the attic was occupied by desks and tables, which in turn were occupied by alchemical equipment she wouldn't ever understand the purposes of in a million years— _with_ tutors!

The blackboards on the walls were covered in formulae, some of which she recognised and some of which she didn't. She didn't even attempt to decipher the ones with more than one result after the equals sign. Her boots stuck to the wooden floor, stained with the spills of a thousand aborted or failed experiments.

She purposefully ignored the scorch marks from the time she'd _attempted_ to brew one of the secret hunter's recipes when the stewards of this particular laboratory were away. If they'd noticed she'd tried to use their equipment without their permission, they made no mention of it, for which she was grateful. Hunting came naturally to Impa, but alchemy was a skill that would forever elude her, so she preferred to leave it to the professionals.

The open windows in the attic did little to alleviate the heavy atmosphere, and she could only hope that whatever miasma she was breathing in wasn't harmful to her lungs. The voices she heard weren't muffled with the familiar face masks that the alchemists in question wore whenever an experiment had gone wrong, but still...

It took her a good few minutes to navigate the maze of fog and desks, but she eventually found her way to the large furnace at the very back of the attic, which the hunters used to dispose of hazardous materials and contagious remains of beasts. She almost grinned when she recognised the constant stream of words she'd been hearing since entering the attic—and their owner.

"...and how many times do I have to remind you to _tell me_ whenever you add something to a solution? That's the _sixth_ time today I've nearly gotten my eyebrows singed off! Do you _enjoy_ making me panic?"

Erd sounded particularly agitated today, which probably meant that Ard...

"Yes."

...was in a _good_ mood. That was a blessing. Or, a blessing for everyone who wasn't his brother, at least. Had he not been, Impa might have turned around and vanished into the mists of grey-green that blanketed their workspace, preferring to live and fight another day.

"Gods, you're worse than _Riveth_ sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes."

There was a beyond frustrated groan, and Impa caught sight of the white-haired twins just as the elder one (according to him, at least) slammed his forehead into the open book on the table in front of him several times, the tirade he'd begun muffled by the pages. All the while, Ard was giving him a triumphantly smug look, his arms crossed and an empty vial clutched between the fingers of his right hand.

Ard noticed her first, and nodded in greeting. He'd never been one for unnecessary verbal utterances (unless they were meant to annoy his brother), and Impa could respect that. Erd knocked his head into the book an additional two times before looking up...and blushing.

"Master Impa!" he exclaimed, straightening up immediately and casting a deadly glare in his twin's direction, green eyes smouldering. "Why didn't you tell me she was here?" he demanded.

"Because of _that_ ," Ard said, gesturing to Erd as a whole, having enjoyed his reaction immensely.

"Now look here—"

"Boys," Impa said, deciding to nip another epic argument between the two in the bud. "Welcome back. I trust you had a pleasant trip?"

Ard snorted, and Erd gave a slight shake of his head.

"'Pleasant' is not the word I would use for the journey," Erd said. "Unless you count being chased out of villages for being witches as something to be enjoyed. Honestly, you try helping someone with their headaches by giving them a simple painkilling concoction, and they immediately think you're a monster!" He huffed, shaking his head. "Ridiculous! Lumina City is the very capital of scientific progress in the world, but you set foot anywhere else in that godsforsaken place and you'd think you were back in the dark ages! I shudder to think how the bumpkins would react to a steam engine, or the airships when they become viable!"

Impa nodded empathetically, more than familiar with the general approach to the unfamiliar that the less worldly populations of small villages had. It had been quite a few years since her last hunt in Lumina, but she remembered the less-than-friendly welcomes she'd received outside the bigger cities. On more than one occasion had she been turned away from inns on rainy nights because of the colour of her eyes, forcing her to camp outside. More than one cold had been acquired that way.

"And the _roads_ , why I have never seen—"

"Your meeting with Mister Tadian," Impa interrupted him once more, stopping yet another of Erd's rants. "It went well?"

Erd looked slightly annoyed, but nodded. "Yes, it did. Better than expected, in fact. He had some rather interesting ideas that, with a bit of modification, can be applied to our field. Of course, we didn't reveal exactly _why_ we were so interested in his coils, but he was more than happy to theorise with us." He glanced at the sparking thing in the corner, which was probably one of Jedistern Tadian's inventions. The man had mastered the art of manipulating steam, it was only to be expected he'd move on to a more volatile natural phenomenon. "He even gave us one to take back. Unusually generous and open, for a scientist of his calibre."

"And sparks can help us...how?" Impa asked.

Ard rolled his eyes. "Master lightning. Burn beasts to a crisp with the press of a button."

"That would definitely be useful," she replied, nodding. "And how far are we from such a weapon being available?"

"A year, perhaps? Five?" Erd said, giving her a shrug. "Hard to tell. We'll have the reverse-engineer it first, figure out how it generates the electricity—"

"We suspect friction," Ard added.

"—friction, yes, and how to make it safe enough to actually carry around as a weapon. This is something we have to do on top of our normal duties."

"Speaking of which, Ayla said you had something interesting to show me?"

Ard immediately fetched a bag from underneath the closest desk and opened it. A small rack of identically sized bottles filled with a grey, shimmering liquid rose from within when he opened it. He handed one of them to Impa, who examined its contents. There seemed to be metal particles suspended within the solution, judging from the way they caught and reflected the light. "And this is?" she asked.

"The weapon you asked us to develop," Erd explained.

"Liquid silver," Ard said.

"Strong enough to kill lycanthropes when introduced into their systems by way of open wounds or ingesting it." Erd took the bottle from Impa and shook it, causing the silvery liquid within to swirl around. "Field-tested and ready."

"Field-tested?" Impa said, arching an eyebrow. That was unusual. The twins had never been the sort to willingly go on hunts and test the new concoctions themselves, usually trusting the hunters to do that part. "Really?"

"Long story," Ard said.

"A _very_ long story," Erd agreed. "Involving a great deal of traipsing around in a marsh, a Luminan general, the miserable little village of Smitch, and an apple pie."

"Do I even want to know?" Impa asked.

"No."

"Good pie, though."

There was a good period of ten seconds where Impa tried to imagine what on earth the boys could have gotten themselves involved in, but her brain refused to cooperate, presumably in an attempt to protect itself from the insanity. "Right, well," she said, trying to recover, "I'm glad to have you both back, and I am looking forward to seeing this in action." She nodded to the bottles of liquid silver. "Can you put it into proper production?"

"Keep us supplied with silver, and we'll never run out." Erd looked proud. "The formula was tricky at first, and required quite a bit of simplification. Now, however, we can make several gallons in...oh, and hour or so."

"Excellent work, boys. I knew I hired you for a reason."

"It certainly wasn't for my brother's winning personality," Erd muttered, casting a glance at Ard, who merely grinned.

"You still have eyebrows," he said. "I should correct that."

Impa left the attic before she was drawn into an all-out war.

* * *

Sheik wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to find when he entered his room at the Temple, but the drunken pair of Lor and Link singing wasn't it. Their voices had almost carried all the way down to the main room of the brothel, but the cause of their raised voices hadn't occurred to him. Even if the bottle on the table hadn't been conspicuously empty, the way Lor had slid bonelessly to the floor would have cued him in. Link was still upright in his seat, luckily, but his neck had seemingly become dislocated and his head was now somewhere in the middle of his chest, eyes glued firmly to his hands.

The song itself, he would refrain from considering too deeply. It was clearly some sort of Ordon folk favourite, probably a staple of long nights at the local tavern. The lyrics would have had Zelda blushing, he was sure, and he himself wasn't particularly comfortable with the subject matter, if only for the extremely raunchy nature of them. What a man and a horse could do together was...well...

At least Link was smiling and laughing, even if the vodka had had a big hand in that. Sheik had worried a bit about leaving Link alone to his misery while he'd been reporting to the princess, which was why he'd asked Lor to keep an eye on him. Of course, _that_ plan had backfired spectacularly, and he found himself glaring at the boy in question, who was blinking blearily back.

"Sheik!" he exclaimed. "You're back!"

_That's the second time I've been greeted like that today,_ he thought, crossing his arms and giving Lor the sternest stare he could muster. "Care to explain what's going on?" he asked.

"We're drunk!" Link supplied helpfully, managing to lift his head for just long enough to give Sheik a stupid grin before losing control once more. "It's Lor's fault!"

"Traitor!" Lor exclaimed, waving his hand vaguely in Link's direction. "I hate you!"

"You love me!"

"I do, but I still hate you!"

Sheik pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to ward off the headache that was beginning to form. What had his aunt once told him after she learned of his newly acquired quarters? _Never trust a whore_ , or something like that. He'd shrugged her words off at the time, of course, but now... Granted, he hadn't told Lor _not_ to drink, but surely even he could understand the lack of wisdom in adding the depressant alcohol to the already miserable equation of mourning? They were both happy now, of course, but Sheik was more than familiar with that progression.

"Right, this party is over," he said, grabbing Lor's hand and mercilessly pulling him to his feet. "You, go to bed. You have work tomorrow, and I know for a fact that Madame Rosa has no mercy for drunken louts like yourself."

"Aw, but Sheeeeeeeik..." Lor whined, making his eyes wide and innocent...or trying, at least. Since his eyes were bloodshot and shiny, the effect was ruined somewhat.

Sheik paid him no mind, dragging him to the door and pushing him into the corridor, where a passing worker and her client gave them an amused glance before continuing on their way.

"Take it easy, boys," the client said with a laugh, his mouth set in a wide, dirty grin. "You've got all night."

"Mind your own business," Sheik growled, steering Lor in the direction of his room. "There, second door on the right. Go to bed."

"But I want to stay up with you and Link," Lor argued, swaying on his feet. "We could play cards or something...or I could give you a—"

"Finish that sentence and die," Sheik snapped, opening the door for him and pushing him inside. "Go. To. Bed." He gave Lor no time to argue, slamming the door shut. It was dark in there, and he heard Lor stumble and fall to the floor in there, but he had a hard time feeling sympathy for him at the moment. If anything, the loud snores he heard moments later confirmed that the boy was fine.

Link had dozed off when Sheik returned to his room. He made to wake him up, but paused for a moment to regard the sleeping farmhand. The lines of stress, which had tightened Link's face from the moment the bandits had attacked all the way until Sheik had left him here on his own with Lor as a chaperone, were gone. For the first time in over a week, Link actually looked like he was resting properly... Of course, he'd be feeling wretched again in the morning, but hopefully he'd be too focused on his hangover to remember everything he'd lost in the attack.

It was a shame Sheik had to wake him, really, but Link was far too heavy to be carried to bed. He shook his shoulder gently. "Link, you have to wake up. You can't sleep in a chair all night."

And neither could Sheik, for that matter, which was why he intended to go back to his office and sleep on the futon he kept in his closet.

"Mmm, go away, sleepin'," Link muttered, batting Sheik's hand away with an ill-aimed swing of his arm.

"I know, but you can't do it here," Sheik repeated gently. "There's a very comfortable bed just five steps away. Won't that be better?"

There was a drawn-out whine from the farmhand, but he opened his eye a crack and regarded Sheik for a moment before finally making an attempt to get off his chair...which turned out to be easier said than done. The will was there, but the strength was not. In the end, Sheik had to sling Link's arm around his shoulder and slowly shuffle him towards the bed, practically hurling the taller boy into it.

He pulled Link's boots off and tried to position him comfortably above the covers (trying to get him under them was a lost cause), lifting his head and sliding the pillow beneath it. Satisfied that he would be somewhat all right sleeping like this all night, Sheik turned to leave, but Link's hand shot out to grab his, holding on tight.

"Don't go..." Link mumbled. "Lonely..."

"There isn't enough room, Link."

"Sure there is..." A weak shuffling motion was made, and a small square of open space on the bed was revealed. "There..."

"Link, I can't stay—"

"Please?"

It was the tone that convinced him, really. It sounded absolutely miserable and desperate, and Sheik had never been the sort who could turn people down easily when making such pleas. He sighed and nodded to himself. "Very well," he said. "I will stay. But I am _not_ sleeping above the covers, so move aside." Link did (surprisingly) as he was told, and ensured that they could both slide in under the covers of the bed after Sheik had locked the door and blown out the lamps.

In the darkness, Sheik felt Link's form slowly but surely enveloping him, like a child clinging to a stuffed toy, in an attempt to find comfort. He let the farmhand do so, aware that Link needed it...and fighting off the idea that the boy from Ordon was doing it because he...because he wanted to. It was a silly idea, anyway.

"Good night, Sheik," Link said with a yawn that sent a wave of air smelling heavily of strong spirits washing over Sheik's face.

"Good night, Link."

He hoped to the Goddesses Link wouldn't be needing a bucket during the night.


	7. The Lord

"Ugh...I am never drinking again..."

"...seconded..."

Sheik looked at the pair of wrecks on the other side of the table, sipping at his tea and nibbling at his toast, feeling rather pleased with himself whenever one of their faces turned green after looking at his breakfast. He _could_ have skipped the garlic sausage, but the looks on Link and Lor's faces when said sausages were offered to him were too good to pass up. The aroma was quite strong, and he could only imagine the chaos it was causing in their respective systems after a night like that.

"There is no need to make such a broad and final statement," Sheik said cheerfully, biting into one of the sausages...and immediately regretting it. It was a far too heavy breakfast for him, and he'd be paying for it later that night, he was sure. He kept his face straight and chewed slowly and thoughtfully, swallowing heavily and immensely enjoying the twin groans it elicited from them. "Just promise never to drink _my_ booze ever again. I was saving that bottle for a special occasion, you know."

"For what, dulling the pain from being eviscerated?" Lor muttered angrily, whimpering slightly when another waft of garlic reached his nose.

"Exactly."

Link shook his head and rested his forehead on the cool table surface. He'd barely touched his water, which Sheik helpfully moved closer to his hand. "Don't want it..." Link whined.

"It will help with your headache," Sheik said, remembering the titanic effort it had taken to wake Link in the first place. He was more than aware of how heavily drunks slept, but the Ordonian had been ridiculously difficult to call back to the land of the living. He was only glad he'd remembered to fetch a bucket before attempting to do so, because it had immediately been necessary when Link opened his eyes. The world had been upside down, apparently. Still, it could have been worse. Helping Zelda through her hangovers had been far worse. "Drink," he ordered. "I need you ready and awake by three this afternoon."

"Why?" Link asked, finally grabbing his water and, after giving it a dubious glance, took a small sip. Even that was upsetting for his stomach, apparently, but he kept at it in a most stubborn manner that Sheik could only admire. He certainly knew how to be persistent, at least.

"We've got a job to do."

Lor's eyes lit up, though the rest of him was still in a half-coma. "Really? Where?"

"Local job," Sheik said, not elaborating in case of prying ears. They were sitting in the main room of the brothel, though this early in the morning only the workers were around, taking the morning to socialise and rest in order to prepare for another busy night. "Here in the city. Unexpected, but not difficult if my calculations are correct. Unpleasant, though. Might want to procure a nose plug of some sort."

"The slaughterhouse district?"

"I wish," Sheik replied honestly. "Think further down."

"Alchemists' guild?"

"Nope."

Lor seemed to catch on, wrinkling his nose and turning a little greener. "Goddesses...the _sewers_?"

"Got in three," Sheik said, raising his tea cup to him. "A nasty little critter on the loose down there. We need to eliminate it before it kills again."

"It's killed people?" Link asked, deciding to join in on the conversation.

"A few," Sheik said with a nod. "I can probably do it on my own, but I would certainly appreciate some help. Are you in?"

Link looked thoughtful for a few moments before gulping down his water in one go. He looked ready to be sick right there and then, but recovered a few seconds later. "What are we waiting for?" he asked.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

_He is full of questions today, isn't he?_ Sheik thought, looking up from his stretching.

He was performing squats and lunges, all with the intention of warming up and preparing his knee for a day full of walking and, possibly, running through sewers. "I'm warming up my knee," he explained, motioning to his left leg. If he hadn't been wearing trousers, Link would have been able to see the vicious scar that ran right across his kneecap. "It gets stiff sometimes, and I need to loosen it a little so it doesn't hurt."

"Oh...is it a hunting injury?"

The Ordonian was putting on the same outfit he'd borrowed from Sheik on the night of their first hunt...sans bloodstains and tears in the leather (skilfully repaired by a slightly puzzled tailor in one of the more discreet shops in Castle Town). It had initially been an outfit for Sheik, but the original tailor had gotten his measurements wrong (either by accident or on purpose), leaving him with a coat that was too big for him. It was a good thing Link had shown up to make use of it.

Sheik considered saying yes and leaving it at that, but that damn desire of his to be honest with the poor farmhand overrode that particular desire. "I wish it was—it would be less embarrassing that way."

"Oh?" Link was definitely intrigued now, leaning forward with an eager expression on his face. He'd recovered remarkably quickly from his hangover, it seemed...or perhaps he was just _that_ good at focusing on one single thing at a time. "How'd it happen, then?"

"I don't know if I should tell you," Sheik teased, giving Link a grin. "It will ruin your perception of me."

"Oh come _on_ , you can't start a story like that and _then_ decide not to tell it—that's torture, that is!"

"Very well," Sheik said with a theatrical put-upon sigh, straightening up after ensuring his knee would be ready for the exertions of a hunt. "I was visiting the Studio, and was speaking with a fellow hunter as we walked through the halls. The building is quite old, and has a very odd floor plan. There are small stone steps everywhere...and some of them are quite sharp. So, we were walking and talking...and he told me a particularly funny joke, which distracted me to the point where I tripped down one of said steps. Sliced my knee up completely, which needed what felt like a million stitches." He felt his cheeks heat up slightly in embarrassment. The other hunters had laughed at it for _months_.

And judging by Link's awful attempt at not grinning, so would he.

"I'm glad you take pleasure in my pain and misery," Sheik said with a sniff, turning away from him. "A debilitating injury like this will haunt me for life, you know."

He didn't expect Link's strong arms to envelop him right then, his chin coming to rest on Sheik's shoulder. "I'm sorry," the Ordonian said gently. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just...you're so strong and confident and graceful, and the image of you tripping down the stairs...it's just..." He choked back another bout of laughter. "I'm sorry," he finished.

"It's...fine," Sheik said, hoping Link hadn't noticed the way he'd stiffened at the embrace. "It's fine, really."

_Goddesses, how hungover_ is _he?_

"All right."

And then Link's arms were gone, and Sheik felt like the world had just gone a little colder. Well, apart from his cheeks, of course, which were burning up.

"A-Anyway," he said, keeping his back turned until he was confident the blush was gone, "that is why I need to stretch in the morning sometimes. How's the coat?"

"Fits perfectly," Link said. "What about weapons? The sword you gave me isn't really...well, I'm not an expert, but I don't think a blade like this should have this many dents or curve like that."

Sheik didn't need to look at the silver sword he'd gifted to Link to know it would be little more than a liability if he attempted to carry it into combat. That was why he'd paid a small visit to his office just after breakfast. "Look in the bag," he said. "There should be a sword in there. Blue handle."

"No silver?" Link asked when he found the blade.

"No silver. What we're hunting today will respond just as well to steel."

He heard some shuffling and the sound of a sword sliding against the leather sheath. The blade sang as it cleaved the air when Link gave it a few practice swings. "Good balance," Link said. "Why's it got the royal seal on it, though?"

Sheik turned around and saw Link studying the Triforce symbol that had been etched into the blade, just above the handle. "Because it was a gift from the Princess Zelda herself," he said matter-of-factly, enjoying the way Link's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "It's a bit too heavy for me, though, which is why I haven't used it before. It's been maintained, however, and should serve you well."

"From the princess?" Link asked, seemingly unsure of whether he should be kissing the blade or dropping it to prevent his commoner grime coating it. "You've met her?"

Sheik blinked. "Met her? Grew up with her, almost. I was her bodyguard for a while before I officially became a hunter."

"But you're only...what...sixteen?"

"I turned seventeen last month," Sheik said, slightly offended. He'd even grown a bit taller! "And I'm a Sheikah—we learn to fight early in life."

"But how did you become her bodyguard at...?"

"Nine," Sheik filled in for him. "And it was part of an agreement the hunters had with Zelda's father, King Rhys. We've always had a special relationship with Hyrule, it being one of the few kingdoms whose rulers will happily let us operate within their borders rather than begrudgingly. The Royal Family has always known the importance of our work. That also means they fall under our personal protection, and for the past two hundred years there has always been a Sheikah at the castle, their purpose solely to guard the heir to the throne."

"So...there's a Sheikah there right now?" Link asked, looking puzzled. He'd probably never heard of this arrangement. Few did. It was beneficial for both parties that this remain a secret.

Sheik shook his head. "No, when Zelda assumed the throne she ended the agreement, claiming that hunters shouldn't have to sacrifice one of their own just to be allowed to protect the realm by hunting dangerous beasts. Honestly, I think she just felt sorry for me, but...well...I really wanted to become a proper hunter, just like my parents and aunt."

"I see..."

"Finish preparing," Sheik reminded him, thinking they'd had enough history lessons for the day. "And grab the pistols." He ignored Link's grimace at the idea of even _touching_ one of the firearms, deciding to ask about that later, if they were both alive at the end of the night. "We probably won't need them, and using firearms in such cramped quarters will deafen us, but we'll take them anyway as a precaution. Hopefully, our blades will be enough."

"What exactly are we hunting this time?" Link asked. "Not lycanthropes, clearly. Shriekers?"

"Shriekers don't roost underground," Sheik said. "We're hunting skulkers, and they're—"

There was a knock on the door, and Lor didn't wait for permission before entering the room. "Aw, I missed the fun part," he said with a disappointed sigh before looking them both up and down with an approving nod, focusing especially on Link. "Hum, looking good, hunters. Very mysterious and formidable. Would definitely be intriguing if you showed up at the Temple like that."

"Thank you," Link said, not missing the extra care Lor took to study him, and undoubtedly fighting off a blush under his high collar. Sheik was used to Lor's flattery, and simply nodded.

"Something you need?" he asked.

"So rude," Lor grumbled. "I just wanted to wish you both luck and...well, there is something I need to talk to you about in private."

"Can it wait?" Sheik asked. "We're just about to head out." He put his tricorn hat on for emphasis, covering himself up completely once more. It always gave him a measure of comfort, hiding his face like this.

"It _could_ wait," Lor said, nodding. "But since you might not come back from your hunt, I'd rather get it over with now. It won't take long, I promise."

Link's head turned to Sheik at the mention of them not returning, and Sheik looked right back at him. "It's true. As I said, every single hunt might be your last. Still in?"

"Of course," Link snorted.

"Good. Would you mind...?"

"I'll wait by the stairs," the Ordonian said, grabbing his new sword and pistols and leaving the room. Sheik and Lor waited until his footsteps had faded away before looking at each other again.

"Well?" Sheik said.

"I like him," Lor said simply, giving Sheik the biggest hungover grin he'd ever seen. "He's a complete sweetheart through and through. Smart, too, even if he doesn't think so himself."

"This is your assessment after a single night, half of it spent drunk?" Sheik asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were a better judge of character than that."

"You don't agree?"

"I do, but I wouldn't jump to conclusions after a mere twenty-four hours, some of which was spent in a near-comatose state of inebriation."

Lor made a frustrated sound and marched up to Sheik, staring into his eyes through the narrow slit between his cowl and hat. "Don't do this again," he growled. "You know how it's going to end and how miserable you'll be feeling. Take a chance and go for it."

Sheik bit back an insult, choosing instead to glare right back at him. "And this is _your_ business...how?"

"Because I want you to be happy, you blithering idiot!" Lor's finger tapped Sheik's chest with each word. Lor was slightly shorter than Sheik, but that did not affect the slightly intimidating stare he was fielding now. "And because I know for a fact that he won't make the first move either, so the two of you will keep dancing around it until one of you gets killed, or he moves on because he feels you're not interested...and you _are_. I can tell by the way you look at him even when he's throwing up."

Sheik had lost focus at the second part. "He...feels...?"

Lor rolled his eyes. "Still clueless, huh? Wonderful... Yes, you damnable fool, he does, and I _order_ you to do something about it before it's too late!"

"I don't know..."

"Do I have to call Madame Rosa and have her give you a lesson in seduction? She's tough, but a damn good teacher!"

Sheik gave him a horrified look. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me!"

"All right, all right, I'll...I'll _attempt_ to do something about it. Is that satisfactory?"

"Not really, but I know that's the best I'm going to get out of you at this point." Lor nodded. "Fine. _Attempt_. But I will interfere if I'm not satisfied with your progress."

"You're a pain in my arse, Lorasi, you know that?" Sheik growled as he headed for the door, trusting Lor to lock it up after him.

"In more ways than one," Lor replied, giving him a horrible wink.

_Good grief..._

* * *

"...and then?"

The bandit, whose face was covered in so many bloodstained bandages it was hard to imagine there being anything _but_ raw and bleeding flesh underneath, cleared his throat and tightened his grip on his hat. "The...the birds, sir."

"Lord."

The bandit hesitated. "Uh..."

"I am a lord, and you will refer to me as such."

"Yes, m'lord."

"Good. Continue, please. The birds?"

"Begging yer pardon, m'lord."

The bandit glanced nervously around the study, which was richly furnished with dark wood panels, expensive paintings and a carpet that was undoubtedly costing its owner a pretty penny simply by being stared at. The man—lord—sitting in front of him was a tiny slip of a thing, dressed in an elegant suit befitting his status. His face was set in a pleasant, albeit slightly chilly smile, blue eyes shining in the lamplight. The only thing that belied the utterly harmless look of him was the calm he displayed in the face of a man nearly twice his size...and the unsettling, sinking feeling in the pit of the bandit's stomach. Of course, his armed guards, two of whom were standing on either side of the bandit with their hands on their pistol grips, did nothing to improve the bandit's odds.

"As I said, please continue. I want to hear the full story from an eyewitness."

"Yes, m'lord. The bird...creatures...monsters, really, came from the ol' tower. Surprised us all, an' the kids got away in the chaos."

"How did the children escape? I thought they were secured in the carriages."

Not even a flicker of displeasure crossed the young lord's face; his tone carried all the umbrage he needed. His hands were folded in his lap, feet propped up on a stool by the comfortable armchair in front of the fire. It had pivoted on the spot, even. Clearly, this lord, while very young, had _old_ money. Usually, the bandit would have clobbered such a pompous little piece of shit over the head with a mace long ago, but this one was different. Very different.

"They had help," the bandit said, desperately wishing he could turn back time and run _away_ from Hyrule rather than hide within it, where he'd been picked up by the lord's men a mere week after the attack on the bandit's camp. "One of the brats from the village, an'...an'..."

"And?" the lord said, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows so high his dark blonde fringe hid them. "Did the villager have help?"

"A Sheikah," the bandit finished lamely. "A fuckin' nomad. Killed Quarl and took 'is axe, freed the kids with it."

"And then you ran away, in the chaos and confusion of this...hm...monster attack? Abandoning your brothers in arms?" the lord asked, looking away from the bandit and into the fire, his eyes turning into blazing infernos from the reflection. "Leaving behind...oh, I don't know...my investment? The fifty-thousand rupees in gold that I specifically paid you miserable little piles of inbred excrement so you'd actually work together and _not_ get in each other way? To actually _assist_ each other in the conducting of our business?"

The bandit nodded, frightened. He'd known making that deal had been a mistake, had tried warning his chief, but the old man had been far too interested in the money that this...this brat was throwing around. It had seemed like such an easy job...burn a village, take the children, sell them at the markets, and split the profits with the lord. Had the bandit been a more principled man, he'd be outraged at the idea of a Hylian selling out his own people like that...but he wasn't. "They...were lost in th' confusion..."

"Naturally, and then the military retrieved it when they happened upon the burning remains of your camp," the lord finished, looking at him with a curious expression. "That about sums it up, then? All it took to disrupt the operation was a tower full of bats, a farmer and a Sheikah? Granted, the last one is a formidable obstacle, but the first two?"

"They weren't bats!" the bandit shouted, causing the guards at his sides to draw their pistols, but not fire them. It was a clear enough warning. He forced himself to stay calm. Even if he'd had his mace, this wasn't a fight he could win. "They weren't bats," he repeated in a softer voice. "They were...bigger. Leathery. Biggest fuckin' mouths I've ever seen on something like that. Teeth sliced through a man's jugular like _that_."

The lord rolled his eyes and turned back to stare into the fire, playing with a stray lock of hair by his ear. "I literally could not care any less about the specific animal that was provoked—the fact remains that they, along with _two_ people, managed to throw a camp of seventy hardy men and women into chaos and abscond with my wares before any semblance of control could be established. Do you have any idea how much money those children were worth?"

The bandit shook his head. Slavery was new to him, and he'd been planning on leaving the actual specifics to his chief and his little group of bean counters. All he knew was that they could all have retired after the first trip to the southern markets.

"A great deal more than the fifty-thousand I gave you," the young lord said, sighing wistfully. "And to think I actually believed you would be capable of doing the job. Oh well, I suppose it is a lesson on the inherent dangers of hiring unskilled help."

That was one insult too many, and the bandit felt his chest tighten and neck bristling with clenched muscles. He didn't lunge forward, but he put every bit of anger he was feeling in his words. "Now look here, yer _lordship_! I have—"

"I believe we are done here," the lord said, interrupting him and giving his guards a nod. Something knocked into the back of the bandit's skull, and his entire world went dark as he slumped to the floor. "Dispose of... _that_ ," he said distastefully at the limp body and wrinkled his nose. "Somewhere discreet. The pauper's cemetery, perhaps?"

"Yes, my lord," one of the guards said as the two worked together to lift the heavy, unconscious bandit off the floor and out of the study.

The door closed, and the young lord sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the thumps and groans of the guards carrying the bandit downstairs and into the basement. He nursed his glass of brandy, fancying himself anything but the man he was today, before glancing to the dark corner in which his most trusted employee had been watching and listening in on the report from the bandit. "You heard the report?" he asked.

"I did," the shadowed person replied with a nod. "Interesting story. Sounds like a hunter, if he was able to rile a nest of shriekers to attack the camp. Very specific knowledge, that."

"Hmph, hunter or not, he has disrupted my business," the lord said, curling his lip at the thought of the blood-eyed nomad. "He needs to learn a lesson. Preferably a permanent one. Can you arrange that?"

"Will need to find him first."

"How hard can he be to find? Sheikah aren't exactly a plentiful commodity these days. You should know that more than anyone."

"I will look into it," the shadow promised, leaving his corner and heading for the door. "I will begin in Castle Town."

"Sounds like a good place to start, yes," the young lord agreed. "Report back to me immediately when you find him, but do not take any other actions until I have made up my mind."

"Your mind?"

The lord ignored the rudeness of the question, and glared at the shadow. "The nomad has cost me quite a lot of money, you know. I will have to come up with an appropriate way for him to repay that debt."

"I see..."

"So there you have it," the lord said, smiling happily as if the discussion topic of the past hour hadn't been awfully morbid, or that he _hadn't_ just ordered the disposal of a bandit whose only mistake in life (well, one of them, anyway) had been to run away from danger rather than seek it. "Don't let me keep you, I am sure you have a _lot_ of work to do."

"Hm."

It was little more than a grunt, but the shadow left the room as quietly as he'd entered it, leaving the lord to his thoughts. He sighed and allowed himself to release the tension that had begun gathering since this little "meeting" had started. He hated it when there were people in his study, but it was the only place where business could be conducted...or so he'd been told. Now that he was alone, he could finally rest...and actually enjoy his brandy. He listened to the blessed silence of his study, his toes curling in his shoes from the sheer pleasure of being alone for once.

Now, where had he been...? Ah, yes.

He retrieved his lap desk from next to his armchair and opened it, pulling out a clean sheet of paper and a fountain pen. Filling it, he was already composing a reply to the letter he'd received earlier that day in his mind. Ten seconds later, the pen touched the paper, and he used his finest handwriting to put his answer down.

_**"Dear sir,** _

_**It is with utmost pleasure that I accept Her Royal Highness Princess Zelda's invitation to the Royal Military Academy's annual masquerade. I must admit I am most excited to once again have an opportunity to converse with The Princess, and further discuss with her my ideas for Hyrule's economic future, which can only be..."** _


	8. The Cistern

"Shit."

"It's a sewer, what were you expecting?"

Link gave him a look, his eyes still bloodshot from the hangover. He was clearly not amused. "I stepped in something," he growled from between tight lips.

"What, shit?"

The Ordonian didn't even give a _hint_ of a smile at that, and Sheik admitted defeat. Link was clearly excited and dedicated to the idea of becoming a hunter (otherwise he wouldn't be down in the sewers right now), but his sense of humour must have been left behind at the Temple, probably in the same drawer they'd taken his vodka from, stowed tightly with Lor's.

He returned his attention to the matter at hand, which was figuring out how to safely negotiate the cramp, stinking sewers of Castle Town. A river of pure filth ran down the centre of the tunnels, flanked on either side by narrow ledges on which the two were trying to keep their balances and not slip in the various pools and piles of waste that accumulated there, which would have been difficult enough with plenty of light, but in the near pitch-black darkness it was nearly impossible. It was only the pair of spherical lanterns hanging from each of their belts that kept them from randomly stumbling or stepping into the river and finding themselves up to their armpits in waste.

The ceiling was low and vaulted, and every sound echoed through the tunnels. Every breath of wind, every drip of water was like an assault on their hearing. The only good thing about was the fact that it would be easy to hear the skulkers if they approached...but the same was true for the skulkers hearing _them_.

"Eugh, the smell is in my clothes already," Link grumbled on the other side of the river.

"We can burn them when we're done," Sheik replied, quite certain that his own coat would need a good cleaning when they were done down here...or outright destruction. It'd be a pity, though, if it came to that. He'd had this coat for almost a year now, and was growing quite fond of it. Still, he'd rather burn it than walk around smelling like faeces.

They reached a crossroads in the tunnels, and all three of the possible paths looked equally promising in terms of hunting down the skulker...or skulkers. It was impossible to tell how many there were so far. The number of victims suggested a single individual, most likely a male given their general role in gathering food...but skulkers were also pack animals, which greatly increased the chances of them finding an entire nest down here. Sheik hoped it was the former—he didn't much like the idea of taking on an entire nest in these cramped quarters. Even here, on the broadest part of the ledge, there was barely room to swing his sword without it catching on the bricks or stone arches.

"Left, right, or straight ahead?" Link asked, keeping a hand firmly on the wall to steady himself as he leaned forward to peer into the tunnel to his right. "Looks like there's a grate blocking our way down this one."

"A great deal of debris down this one," Sheik said, looking down the left one. "Too tight to be navigable for skulkers, or us. Straight ahead, I think."

"All right."

They walked for several minutes, finding more and more blocked passages, forcing them further into the labyrinthine structure of the sewers. The further in they got, the older the stonework became. Decorations and symbols changed, reflecting the passing of time as the city grew and its waste management requirements became steeper.

The smell down there was indescribable. This was hardly the first sewer tunnel Sheik had explored, but this was truly something else, most likely due to the immense size of the city above. Thousands upon thousands of inhabitants, all doing their business and emptying the results into whatever open manhole could be found. It wasn't just a smell anymore, really, it was more like an…atmosphere. A literal wall of invisible excrement, the air so oily with filth it felt like it was clinging to them. The narrow strip of exposed skin between Sheik's cowl and his tricorne hat was absolutely filthy by now, he was willing to bet, despite not having done a damn thing other than walk so far.

"Hey, look at this," Link suddenly whispered, his voice carrying awfully far despite how quiet he'd spoken. The Ordonian paid it no mind, however, his attention focused completely on the stone carving on the wall. "It's the royal family's sigil."

Sheik looked, and found that there was indeed a carving on the wall. Though its edges and details had faded with age, it was still very clearly the same mark that had been etched onto the blade of Link's sword. "The Triforce," he supplied, wondering how much of Hyrule's history Link knew. "An ancient artefact, supposedly left behind by the Goddesses—"

"—after they created the world," Link finished. "They then left, so that we could find our own way and not be dependent on their guidance. The Triforce was meant to unite and empower us." He glanced at Sheik, hesitating. "What?" he asked. "Surprised I know that story?"

"I was unsure of how much history you have been taught," Sheik admitted, fiddling with his lantern, turning the knob to make the flame burn brighter. "What happened then?"

Link didn't seem offended at Sheik's admission. "Well, the Imprisonment War happened, of course," he said, nearly rolling his eyes. "Some evil king rose up and stole the Triforce, but because he didn't exhibit any other virtue represented by the triangles other than power, it split apart. One went to the princess of Hyrule, beautiful and wise, while the other went to the Hero of Time, who embodied courage. The Hero then set out on a quest to stop the evil king, and defeated him." Link blinked. "Need me to go on?"

"Perhaps later," Sheik said, having noticed something in the air. The worst part of this particular hunt was the fact that he had no choice but to draw deep breaths through his nose every now and then, because depending on just their sight alone would lead them to losing their way and becoming lost down here. Every time he smelled the air, he had to fight the urge to gag...but there it was.

An iron-tinged scent, lurking just beneath the miasma of waste that permeated the air. There was no mistaking that particular smell—he'd been around it too many times to forget it.

"What is it?" Link asked.

"Blood," Sheik replied, looking at him. "Can't you smell it? Like it's coating your tongue..."

Link sniffed deeply, and gagged. "No," he croaked.

"Well, I do," Sheik said, tempted to reach out and pat Link on the back. "And it seems stronger...in...that direction." He spun and pointed down a seemingly random tunnel. "Shh..."

They listened. The ambient sounds of the sewers seemed to rise in volume the more they concentrated. Sheik struggled to filter out the background noise, hoping to hear something, anything, that could indicate that all was not as it should be down here...

There! Something scratched against stone in the distance, the sound amplified and reverberating until it reached their ears, startlingly loud.

Sheik drew his blades. They were short, about the length of his forearms, and perfect for fighting in cramped quarters like this. Link would have a tougher time with his longer sword, but the Ordonian would probably grow used to it.

"Sheik?" Link asked as they began to advance down the dark tunnel, blades held high to defend against unexpected attacks from the blackness in front of them.

"Yes, Link?" Sheik replied.

"What exactly are skulkers? You never said..."

"Do you want the short answer or the long answer?"

"Short one, please."

"Big rats."

Sheik became aware that only he was moving forward now. He paused, looking back. Link's eyes, barely visible in the light of his lantern, were wide with disbelief and...annoyance? "Big rats?" he asked. "Really? We're tracking through a river of shit for _rats_?! You said they'd killed people!"

Sheik rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw. "When I say 'big', I mean _really_ big."

"How big?"

"Some can grow to the size of a pony."

"...that's big."

"Yes, yes it is," Sheik agreed, nodding. "They're quite common in cities with sewers like these, but they rarely exceed the size of cats. They stay away from people usually, but once they get big enough they become quite bold. Hunters do a sweep of the major cities in their areas every few years or so to deal with growing infestations."

"Here too?"

"No. I had no idea they had even begun to breed here until yesterday. Now that I do, however..."

"Anything I should know about fighting them?"

Link, who'd seemed ready to back out of the job after being disappointed by their quarry (or so Sheik assumed), was preparing to move forward again. His blade was drawn and held in a relaxed but firm grip in one hand, while the other was resting on the pistol in his belt. Despite his distaste for powder and its uses, at least he seemed to appreciate its presence at his side, as a morbid reassurance.

"They are nothing like fighting lycanthropes, if that is what you're wondering," Sheik said as they began to move once more. "Skulkers are...weak and slow, individually. It is when they move in groups they become truly dangerous. I suspect that we are dealing with a pack of them here, based on their boldness in actually ascending to street level and snatching random passers-by. Their size will probably wary greatly, based on their age and access to food. Avoid the teeth—Goddesses know what kinds of nasty diseases those things have in their mouths, especially after living down here. Also, watch where you step—their tails are easy to trip over in the heat of battle."

"Where should I aim?"

"Head, if you can. Otherwise, get them to expose their bellies and go for the heart. It's roughly in the same place as _ours_ , so you should have no trouble locating it."

"All right."

"And above all, do not let them surround you." Sheik paused mid-step and gave Link his most serious look, hoping he got his point across. "The moment you're surrounded is the moment you die. If there are too many of them, keep your back to a wall so you can keep _that_ angle covered, at least."

"Okay."

"And another thing—"

There was a hiss, and Sheik's turned into a blur. Something came flying at him from the darkness, teeth snapping at his legs, and he had to hurl himself aside to avoid having his shin torn to pieces. His foot caught on the edge of the platform, and he nearly stumbled face-first into the river, but he managed to steady himself just in time, only to have his right leg disappear to his knee in filth. His boot instantly began filling with something indescribable.

He struck out with his left blade, and it caught on something fleshy, which squealed and jerked away. There was a shout from Link, and Sheik saw him struggle with an attacker of his own, sword dancing through the air as he was driven backwards by the ferocity by the skulker. The fact that the skulker was only as big as a cat would have been humorous, if Sheik didn't know just how vicious the damn things could be and how bold they became when surrounded by its own kind.

He turned his attention back to the skulker attacking him, and finished the thing off with another swipe of his blade, severing its head. He climbed back onto his side of the tunnel platforms, and flicked a dagger at the thing attacking Link, which distracted it long enough for the Ordonian to drive the tip of his sword into its head. It gave another hiss and fell silent.

"Goddesses," Link gasped, stepping away from the rat-like creature, gagging once more. "It stinks!"

Sheik didn't comment, studying the one he'd killed. A little bigger than an average cat, he estimated, and reasonably healthy-looking. Its fur was caked with filth and sewage. The thing's face was covered in open cuts and old scars, evidence of the intense competition between its pack mates for the scarce resources down here. Other than that, it was about as well-fed as it could get. Not big enough to drag an adult into a manhole, however...

"Advance guard," he said, looking to Link. "We're probably dealing with an entire nest, here."

"How many?" Link asked, looking none-too-happy about that prospect.

"Dozens at the very least, and probably one king."

"King?"

"Pack leader. It'll be much bigger than the rest, but they never leave the nest itself." He sheathed one blade and reached into his coat, reaching for the bundle of powder-filled sticks he'd brought just for this occasion. "Get me close enough to the nest, and this will take care of it."

"What is it?" Link tried to study the object, which was difficult to do from the other side of the river.

"Something that goes boom," Sheik explained, leaving it at that. "Come on, they know we're here now."

They quickened their pace. The rest of the pack would be circling around them now, trying to trap them. It was all about trying to keep moving and not overwhelmed.

"Gah!" Link jumped as a fang-filled mouth darted out of a pipe and snapped at his face. He drew back and shoved his blade into the pipe, eliciting a loud squeal and a gush of blood. "Take that!"

"Keep moving!" Sheik shouted. Around them, he heard hissing and the splashes of clawed feet, and he began to wonder if the things had been breeding down here for _years_ , and if he'd made a mistake taking only Link and no one else to investigate.

 _Too late for regrets now, though,_ he thought.

They ran for several minutes, dodging and killing skulkers as they popped up. The ones bold enough to attack were also, apparently, the youngest of the pack judging by their size. The bigger ones were keeping back, more cautious than their younger brothers and sisters. Sheik could hear the heavier thumping in the background, the more violent splashing. Why were they keeping back when they were so numerically superior? All it would take was for one to slow them down, and then—

Something slammed into him from the side, knocking him head-first into the river. For a moment, he was too surprised to do anything. Then, reality set in, and he realised _what_ he'd been knocked under, flailing desperately to right himself and find the surface, keeping his eyes and mouth firmly shut. He broke the surface, gasping for air...and found himself face-to-face with a skulker. He jerked back, the back of his head slamming into the platform edge, stars dancing in front of his eyes. He struck out with an empty hand.

_My sword!_

They were both at the bottom of the shit river, and Goddesses knew where _exactly_. He reached for his pistol...and paused. The skulker in front of him wasn't moving. Blood was leaking from a deep gouge in its neck, its eyes glassy and empty.

"Sheik!"

A pair of arms hooked themselves under his, and Sheik was suddenly pulled out of the river and onto the platform. The filthy water was pouring into every nook and cranny of his clothes, his hat was gone and his hair was matted with the disgusting fluids. But he was alive.

"You all right?" Link asked, looking him over for injuries. "One of the big ones came at you!" He was about to ask another question, but suddenly whirled around to swing his sword, catching a skulker that had been sneaking up on him on the shoulder, which sent the beast flying into the wall. Link's boot came down on its head, crushing it with a sickening crack. "We can't stay here; can you move?"

Sheik nodded, drawing his pistol and a dagger, hoping the bundle of explosives under his coat hadn't been rendered useless by his tumble into the river. "Yes, let's go. The nest won't be far, I'm sure."

He was right. Ahead, the tunnel opened up into a large, multi-levelled chamber where several of the sewer tunnels converged. The walls were covered with fungus and Goddesses knew what else, fed by the multitudes of canals that ran along the walls and through the very centre of the chamber. Ahead, several skulkers were blocking their path. Behind them was a gaping maw of a doorway, which should have been covered by a grate. It had undoubtedly been thoughtlessly left open the last time someone had come down here to perform maintenance work. And around it...well, if Sheik had had any hope of finding the disappearing victims alive, it was gone now. Piles of what could only be described as mangled _meat_ littered the floor, and bones that were unmistakably humanoid in appearance had been chewed on and haphazardly been left everywhere. A skull was grinning at them from atop a pile of its owner's remains.

He had no time to contemplate how awful the last minutes of that person's life must have been, for the group of skulkers in front of charged. Fanning out, they attempted to surround the two hunters, their jaws snapping at whatever they could each time they came closer.

The biggest skulker, a massive beast with the frame of a prize hog, locked eyes with Sheik, and he knew that only one of them would walk away from this confrontation alive. Behind him, Link was doing an admirable job of fending off the smaller ones, but if the hog-sized one joined the fray... It charged, and Sheik raised his pistol, squeezing the trigger. There was a click...and nothing. He barely managed to step out of the creature's way, feeling its stinking breath washing over his face as it came within inches of him.

The powder was wet and useless! His tumble into the river had poured water into the barrel. For all intents and purposes, his pistol was now simply an expensive club. Scowling, he threw it aside and drew a second dagger. The blades were far shorter than he'd liked, but beggars could not be choosers.

"Hah!" Link exclaimed, finishing off another of his opponents.

By now, the levels above them were crawling with skulkers, all making their way to the central column, where they could descend to the hunters' level and pour out of the doorway. If that happened, there would be nothing left of either of them!

The hog charged again, but this time Sheik was ready. It foolishly jumped at him once more, hoping to take him with its bodyweight, but the nimble Sheikah sidestepped once more and lashed out with his dagger, slicing open its stomach. Blood splattered all over Sheik's coat and face, but he didn't care, following the creature on its trajectory. It squealed as it hit the floor, trying to get back up to make another attack, but its strength had been sapped, innards falling out with every movement. Sheik's dagger through its skull ended its suffering.

"Link!" Sheik called, noting that their battleground was about to become _very_ crowded. "The door! We have to shut the door!"

The Ordonian looked to the doorway, seeing the grated door, and nodded. "Got it!"

They fought their way towards it, slowly but steadily. The amount of skulkers that emerged from the tunnel behind them was smaller than Sheik had anticipated, but more than enough to slow them down. If they didn't get to the door before it was too late...

 _I don't want to become rat food,_ he thought.

Inch by bloody inch they approached the door. The sounds of screeching and screaming were deafening, and Sheik's vision had narrowed to the edge of the door itself, everything else a blur of grey, mottled fur, blood sprays and the flashes of his and Link's blades. Somewhere to his right, the Ordonian was roaring, attacking the beasts with gusto, wielding his sword with both hands and sweeping skulkers aside in all directions. A crude but effective way of attacking, in Sheik's opinion, and it seemed to draw the attention of the beasts and make them consider Link to be the biggest threat.

_If only they knew..._

Then he was within reach of the door, and he grabbed at it with one hand. It slipped off the slick metal, but he grabbed it again and hauled with all his strength. Slowly, it moved with a great squeak as the rusting hinges gave way. Giving one last great haul, Sheik managed to slam the door shut and bolt it, just as the remaining skulker army rushed for the doorway, teeth snapping and claws swiping at him from within the great room, all of them too fat to reached through the bars.

"What now?!" Link asked, still doing his best to fend off the skulkers that were still alive in the great chamber.

Sheik stared into the darkness of the room, his lantern casting great shadows as the light hit the writhing forms within that were so desperate to bite into his flesh, to tear him apart and offer his remains to the...

A great roar reverberated throughout the chamber, and something _big_ moved within the room, malevolent eyes glittering from the light of the lantern. Sheik could not even see its outline, but the sheer _sound_ of it moving was enough to mark it as the leader of the pack, the rat king.

"Now," Sheik called back to Link, "you give me your pistol!"

"What?!"

"Just do it!"

Link paused his attacks for just long enough to pull his pistol out of the holster on his bolt and toss it to Sheik, who quickly inspected it and found to his satisfaction that the powder in this one was dry. After all, _Link_ hadn't fallen into the river like an idiot! He withdrew the bundle of explosives from his coat and, praying all the while that it hadn't become too wet to function, held the fuse up against the barrel of the pistol. Just as he pulled the trigger, he spun around. A flame sprayed out of the barrel, thankfully lighting the fuse and launching a bullet that took out a skulker which had been creeping up on Sheik from behind at the same time.

Turning back to the doorway, Sheik hurled the bundle through the bars and saw it sail through the air and hit the floor somewhere in the throng of pushing and struggling skulker bodies. The rat king within bellowed once more, and its eyes met Sheik's. There was an unspoken, bestial curse being hurled at him at that moment.

 _Yeah, yeah, fuck you too!_ Sheik thought, reaching out and grabbing Link's arm, feet already moving in the opposite direction. "Move! It's going to blow!"

It was a clumsy and doomed retreat. There was still a great deal of skulkers to deal with in the great chamber, and enough dead bodies to trip them up every few steps.

 _There's not enough time,_ Sheik realised to his horror. _We won't get out before it blows!_

He looked around, desperately trying to find a way out of the chamber closer than the tunnel through which they'd entered, but finding none. None, other than... He mentally counted the seconds until the explosives would detonate, and cursed loudly.

_Seven...six..._

"Do you trust me?!" he asked Link.

"What?!"

"Do you _trust_ me?!"

_Five...four..._

"Of course!"

_Three...two..._

"Good!"

"What are you—gah!"

Link could only cry out when Sheik threw himself at the Ordonian, wrapping his arms around him tightly and pulling him down...into one of the canals. He barely had any breath in him as they hit the surface of the filthy water, and disappeared beneath it.

_One..._

The world shook, and a muffled boom hurt their ears even underwater. A great gout flame passed overhead, shining through the murky depths in which they'd taken cover. The bricks came next, pieces of the wall and column raining down upon the chamber as it was all blown apart. A piece of debris, a split brick, sailed through the air, struck the canal and nearly hit Sheik's temple. He felt Link's arms come up, covering both their heads from more errant pieces of masonry.

There was too little air. Sheik was about to run out, his lungs already burning. He had to surface, he had to—

Link held him in place, refusing to budge. For a moment, Sheik wondered if the Ordonian intended to drown him, but then he realised that he could still see the light of flames through his eyelids, which meant...

Slowly, the light faded, and the Ordonian finally let go, allowing them both to resurface. Gasping for breath, they dragged themselves out of the disgusting canal and crawled onto (relatively) dry ground, which was now covered in debris and rubble. Small fires burned everywhere, and Sheik didn't need to look closer to know they were the remains of the skulkers inside the rat king's throne room (perhaps even the rat king itself!), reduced to little more than clumps of rapidly charring flesh.

The air stank of sewage and burnt fur and flesh, a mix of smells that never should have existed.

The central column had been completely obliterated, as had the room within it. The metal gate had been bent and twisted by the blast, thrown clean up against the wall, where it had crushed a very unfortunate skulker. There was no movement in the great chamber apart from the pair of hunters trying to recover from the extremely interesting turn the events had taken. Sheik was certain that more than a few of the great rats had escaped the blast, but it would be a long time before they could become a threat again...and Sheik would certainly return here later with an entire party of hunters to exterminate the last remnants of the pack.

"That...was...interesting," Link said, panting and trying to catch his breath. Then he began chuckling, which made Sheik look at him like he was crazy.

"What's so...funny?" he asked.

"You've a...funny way of...showing gratitude," Link said, laughing now.

"How so?" Sheik frowned. What had he done that was so strange _this_ time?

"I saved your...life again," Link said, finally able to breathe somewhat normally between the hitching laughter. "I pulled you out of the river, and you repay me by pulling _me_ into it!"

Sheik couldn't help but chuckle at that himself. "Heh, I suppose you're right...but then, it was that or get torn to pieces by the explosion."

"I don't mind the occasional swim," Link continued, ignoring Sheik's attempt at being the voice of reason. "But this?!"

It wasn't even funny, but Sheik found himself laughing just as hard as Link. The sheer relief at having survived an utter screw-up like that would make _anything_ hilarious. He glanced back at the ruined column, nearly wincing when he saw that he'd blasted a hole nearly all the way to the streets above. The whole _city_ must have felt that blast, and guards would surely be on their way to investigate it. He stood up and offered his hand to Link, who took it. Pulling the Ordonian to his feet, Sheik looked to the tunnel they'd come in through, relieved to find it open and free of giant rats.

"I think it's best we get out of here before the guards show up," he said as Link retrieved his sword from the edge of the canal, somewhat surprised the thing hadn't slipped into the water and skewered them from above (now _there_ was an embarrassing way to die!). "It's going to be hard to explain why we blew up the cistern."

"We?" Link asked, giving Sheik an offended look. " _You're_ the one who blew it up—I was just there to keep the rats busy, remember? And did you have to make the blast so _strong_?"

"I didn't plan on using _all_ of the black powder," Sheik replied. "I wasn't really in a position to carefully measure the amount, you know."

They bickered as they moved along the tunnel, slowing down once they were satisfied they were far enough away from potential investigators, bickering good-naturedly all the while. Despite the unfortunate and absolutely disgusting turn the hunt had taken, Sheik couldn't be too unhappy with it. After all, it was _technically_ a success...even if he'd taken out a great deal of Castle Town's subterranean architecture and plumbing to achieve it.

_Zelda's going to kill me when she finds out..._

"What're you pouting for?" Link asked, grinning. "We're alive, aren't we?"

"True, but I fear I shall never be clean again," Sheik said, wrinkling his nose at their soiled outfits. His hat had been lost somewhere in the river, along with his swords, and his hair was absolutely _caked_ with...with...he dared not even think about it.

Link gave a sniff, and shuddered. "I suppose we could both do with a bath...or ten," he agreed. "Think we could do that at the Temple?"

"They'd never let us in the front door," Sheik said unhappily. "Madame Rosa runs a clean establishment...or so she claims."

"Then where can we go? Sheik, I'm pretty sure there's a turd in my _boot_!"

There was only _one_ place Sheik could imagine they'd be able to clean themselves without being harassed or thrown out.

"Well, there's always the moat..."


	9. The Reprisal

The water was freezing, but at least it didn't have a layer of congealed filth floating on top of it. It was a relief to be able to wrench off their soiled clothing and dive into the somewhat cleaner moat and furiously scrub at their skin. Sheik raked his nails over every inch of himself he could reach, feeling like he was sloughing off layer after layer of the repugnant sewers, certain that he would have to _bleed_ before actually getting clean.

"Holy hell, this is cold," Link exclaimed, doing the exact same thing as Sheik, dunking his head underwater again and again while trying to get his hair free of...bits.

"It's better than what we just left behind," Sheik reminded him, feeling like the smell was _inside_ his nose. "And lower your voice, we don't want to get caught out here. I have a feeling this'll be a difficult situation to describe to the guards up there." He pointed at the nearest tower of the city's defensive wall, where each window glowed from the warming fires within.

They were on the western edge of Castle Town, close to where the city wall met the northern mountain range that formed a natural defensive half-circle of sheer rock and steep cliffs, which had been vital in more than one ancient war. Here, the patrols were slightly less frequent than anywhere else on the wall, and the chances of getting caught were much smaller than, say, directly underneath the drawbridge. They could have followed the moat further west and washed themselves in the river that would eventually reach the Gerudo Valley, but that would have taken them forever, and Sheik had hoped to catch at least _some_ sleep after an exhausting hunt like this.

"Right," Link agreed, definitely not particularly interested being arrested of public indecency. "How did you know about the passage, though?" he asked, his voice nearly a whisper, almost hidden beneath the sounds of splashing water.

Sheik glanced at Link...and hurriedly looked away when the Ordonian turned just enough for the moonlight to dance across his upper body and the well-toned muscles that shifted with each movement. Link's hands roamed across his abdominals, still scrubbing furiously, and further down... He looked away, his mouth dry.

_Even now?_ he wondered, glaring pointedly down at a rebellious part of his body that could _not_ be allowed to make itself known. He cleared his throat. "Er, it's an old defensive measure, from medieval times. If the city came under siege, the passage would be used to smuggle out both the civilian population and elite squads of soldiers who would strike at the enemy camps at night. Its existence has been forgotten by most in the past few centuries—I believe the only one who knows about it these days are the princess, a select few of her guards, and the hunters. We were informed of it in case there came a time when our presence would not be welcome in Hyrule. And, of course, should any of us ever feel the need to swim in the moat after a refreshing trek through the sewers."

Link snorted. "A very specific situation, that."

"The kings and queens of Hyrule have always been a forward-thinking and detail-oriented group."

"Clearly. I've always been more interested in the here and now, myself."

_Such as the fact that you are absolutely beautiful, standing five feet away from me and bloody_ naked _?_ Sheik wondered, unable to get his mind out of the gutter. Never mind the fact that Lor told him Link apparently felt the same way, but... _No, definitely not an appropriate time to bring it up,_ he told himself. _Especially not in_ public _!_

He would continue to admonish himself for his ridiculousness when he suddenly felt a feather-light touch at his back. He stiffened, and Link drew a quick breath behind him.

"Sorry," the Ordonian said hurriedly. "I didn't mean to...I just saw the scars, and—"

"It's...it's fine," Sheik said, happy he wasn't facing Link right now, for his blush could surely have been seen from the city walls. "Which one?"

"This one," Link whispered, letting his finger trail the long, straight scar that ran diagonally from Sheik's right shoulder to the middle of his back, a raised, white strip of skin. "What made it?"

Sheik suppressed the urge to shiver as he felt Link's gentle touch. "A...a gryphon. Sharp claws and beak. I got lucky by rolling out of its reach, but it left its mark nonetheless."

"And this one?" Link asked, trailing another scar. Two deep scratches beneath his left shoulder blade.

"Shrieker," Sheik explained. "Accidentally walked right into a nest of them. They didn't much appreciate my lantern or the flash of my pistol when I panicked."

Link paused. "I can't really imagine you panicking."

"I wasn't always the expert hunter you see in front of you, you know," Sheik said, chuckling.

"Expert?" Link said, rubbing the scratches gently, almost as if he wasn't aware of doing it himself. "In the time I've known you, I've saved your life twice...and it's barely been a month since we first met."

"I'm still young, and I've much to learn," Sheik admitted, trying not to enjoy the touches as much in case Link didn't mean anything by it other than showing admiration...or pity, perhaps? "I'm also, however, still alive. Each scar is a testament to a lesson I have learned."

"Like not to walk into a shrieker nest with a lit torch or lantern?"

"Exactly."

"I see..." Link trailed off with a chuckle, letting his fingers reach the pair of scars Sheik _hoped_ he wouldn't find. Two deep-looking punctures, just beneath the left side of his ribs. "And these?"

Sheik paused, wondering if honesty was really the way to go with these. He didn't want to lie to Link, either, but how would he react to the truth? He'd be displeased...or so Sheik hoped, anyway.

"Assassin," Sheik whispered, closing his eyes and trying to ward off the memories of the night he'd suffered those injuries. Link's fingers stilled.

"What?" the voice was deathly quiet.

"Assassin," Sheik repeated. "I don't know if he was sent after me because I'm a hunter, or if it was because I'm a Sheikah, or even who hired him in the first place...honestly, I wasn't too concerned with the reason or contract giver at the time, on account of him stabbing me in the back, twice."

"What happened?"

"I was on my way back to Hyrule after a visit to the Studio. Stopped by a small city by the name of Kaerwall close to the Terminan border. He'd been following me for a while, apparently, and he saw his chance when I rented a room at the inn. I was wading my way through a drunken crowd in an attempt to order dinner, and he took the opportunity to shove a stiletto into my lung. He missed, thankfully, but the injury was life-threatening even so..."

He nearly gasped when Link's arms encircled him, just like they had back at the Temple...though now he felt the Ordonian tremble with barely-suppressed anger. "And then?" he asked.

"...er...I reacted faster than he'd thought I would, I suppose," Sheik said hesitantly, his train of thought momentarily derailed. "Spun around at the second stab, and shoved a dagger of my own into his neck. Cut through his carotid artery...and then I passed out. Don't really remember much after that. I woke up a week later, still in Kaerwall. A travelling surgeon had witnessed the attack, and while the other patrons in the bar wanted to throw me into the street to die, she insisted on having me brought up to her room, where she operated on me. She saved my life."

"Thank the Goddesses for that," Link said, his chin coming to rest on Sheik's shoulder, his warm breath ghosting over Sheik's cheek.

"That relieved, huh?" Sheik said, turning his slightly so he could look at Link, finding the Ordonian staring back at him. "How come?"

Link rolled his eyes. "You have to ask? Without you, I'd probably be dead right now, or sold into slavery. I wouldn't have gotten the chance to do things I could only have imagined in my wildest dreams, and...well, the sewer thing wasn't one of them, but it certainly was a unique experience and...and..." His eyes looked away, but his head remained where it was. "I...I wouldn't have heard Lor say..."

He trailed off and, before Sheik could ask exactly what Link had heard, turned to face him fully, letting his lips graze Sheik's carefully. Gently. Probing. It was the faintest of pressures, a mere touch of the wind. Then he retreated, looking meaningfully into Sheik's eyes, his own sparkling with excitement and fear. Sheik found his mouth dry once more, like a desert, and his tongue paralysed, unable to make a single sound. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Link in return, just as carefully as Link had. The Ordonian's arms tightened around him, and a shiver passed through both their bodies as Sheik's lips erupted with heat.

They broke off seconds later, panting slightly both from the excitement and lack of oxygen. Link giggled (honest to Goddesses _giggled_ ) and turned away, probably blushing just as bad as Sheik was.

"Is something wrong?" Sheik asked, wondering if Link was laughing at _him_.

"Nothing, it's just...just...that was my first..."

"I see...how long have you been...exactly...?"

"Since the day I met you," Link admitted. "When you took off your cowl and smiled at me. Couldn't it off my mind for weeks...and then you showed up in Ordon and...and..." His jaw clenched as the memories of his village burning undoubtedly made an unwelcome appearance. "How about you?" he asked.

"The same," Sheik replied, feeling utterly foolish. It had taken _Lor_ , who had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to get it through his head...and even then _Link_ had been forced to make the first move. Embarrassing. "How much did you hear? From Lor, I mean..."

"Enough," Link said firmly. "And I'm not sorry for eavesdropping."

_I'm glad you're not,_ Sheik thought. _Or we'd still be bumbling around each other, I'm sure..._

A chilly wind had begun to blow, and the two of them were shivering by now, goose bumps covering their skin. "Perhaps it is time to head back," Sheik suggested, looking at their respective piles of clothing on the shore. They'd done their best at rinsing them thoroughly before attempting to clean their bodies, but a quick whiff at both himself and the clothes revealed that clean water on its own had not done the trick. "At least we'll be allowed inside the Temple now, and can make use of their baths."

Link looked slightly disappointed at not being able to kiss some more (or so Sheik hoped, selfishly), but when his teeth began chattering as another gust of wind blew by, he nodded.

It would be an uncomfortable walk back to the Temple, in wet and freezing cold clothes, but it'd be worth suffering after the night's revelations...and the decision Sheik had made after emerging from the sewers. He'd tell Link about it later.

* * *

"Well?"

"I've made some enquiries, and learned a few things."

The shadow looked unbearably smug, with his arms crossed and leaning against the bedpost, regarding his employer with a triumphant gaze. Whether it was because he'd succeeded in his information gathering and had his suspicions confirmed, or that he'd caught the young lord sleeping and clutching a pillow like a stuffed toy, only he knew.

"I certainly hope it is worth waking me in the middle of the night for," the lord said, rubbing his eyes sleepily and glaring at the shadow.

"Depends on how badly you want to know who's responsible for the loss of your investment." The shadow stretched, sighing happily when several of his joints popped loudly. If he noticed the lord wincing at every single pop, he didn't comment. "I assume that is still of interest?"

"Of course," the lord said, scowling. "Now tell me."

"What's the magic word?"

"Ascal!"

The shadow allowed himself a chuckle at the sheer exasperation in his lord's voice before lowering himself to sit on the edge of the spacious bed, regarding the dishevelled young man beneath the covers. His hair was in complete disarray, a far cry from the carefully arranged sweeps he wore it in during the day. His eyes were dark with sleep, the slightly upturned nose wrinkled in annoyance. His mouth was downturned, almost pouting like a child. Ascal deliberately ignored the way the lord's shirt had slipped off his shoulder, exposing the pale, delicate skin there...or tried to, at any rate.

"Those responsible were indeed a young man from Ordon, his name unknown, and a Sheikah. And not just any Sheikah, mind."

"Yes?"

"It is none other than Sheik, former bodyguard to Princess Zelda."

The young lord perked up immediately at that, leaning forward. "That is...unexpected. And he is a hunter?"

"Indeed. The only one in Hyrule at the moment, at that."

"So he has no friends in the city and is mostly defenceless? Excellent, why don't you—"

"No."

The almost-pout turned into a tight-lipped frown, the lord's eyes flashing dangerously in the way Ascal had always found thrilling. Many things could rile or anger the young lord, but nothing achieved it like being told the N-word. "Excuse me?" he asked quietly.

"He may not have many allies, but my sources tell me he is still nursing close bonds with the princess and the boy from Ordon," Ascal said. "If we make a move now and kill him or make him disappear, the princess will move heaven and earth to find out who was responsible. Make no mistake, my lord, I am good...but I'm not so good as to avoid detection by the entire city guard. And when they find me, they will inevitably find you." He reached out and placed a hand on top of the lord's. "And I refuse to let that happen."

"So...what do we do, then?" the lord said, not reacting particularly to the gesture...but he didn't move his hand from underneath Ascal's either. "Nothing?"

"Of course not," Ascal said with a snort. "For now, we bide our time and watch. Sooner or later, he will have to leave the city for a hunt, and _that_ is when I make my move. It is much easier to make someone disappear on the road than in the city, believe me."

"I do believe you," the lord said. "You're the assassin, after all." He hesitated for a moment, and looked into Ascal's eyes. "Is that all you woke me for? To tell me that there is nothing that can be done?"

Those were the words Ascal had been waiting for, and he grinned as he climbed onto the bed and trapped the young lord underneath him. "I can think of another reason to wake you," he said, chuckling.

* * *

The Temple was quite busy, even for this time of night. It was just after midnight, and business was apparently booming. The noise level was nearly unbearable from the outside, and it only got worse when Sheik and Link crossed the threshold after being given an extremely sidelong glance by one of the bouncers. Had it been anyone else, he'd bar their entrance based on the smell.

Once inside, Sheik understood the reason for the noise immediately. One of the gangs had decided to pay a visit, as they sometimes did. He recognised their colours—The Blue Vultures—and relaxed. They were one of the more vicious gangs in Castle Town, but they usually kept their violent antics confined to their rivalries with the Butcher Boys and Red Falcons. Innocents were rarely caught in the crossfire, and never on purpose. That meant Sheik wouldn't have to start any fights tonight, which was good—he was far too exhausted to do so.

"You're back."

They turned and found Lor loitering on a stool in the entrance hall, waiting for them, apparently. He kept his face downcast, eyes focused on a book. He was in his work uniform—the abominable skirt-like piece of fabric that provided no protection or decency whatsoever. It was the same uniform everyone in the Temple had to wear, but Lor's was cut just like the girls'...which, he supposed was fair in some way, but it left nothing whatsoever to the imagination.

"How'd it go?"

His nose wrinkled, and he peeked up at them to take in their appearances. He must have noticed the smell.

"The hunt itself went well," Sheik said, exchanging a glance with Link. "Though we are in sore need of a bath."

"Excellent!" Lor exclaimed, jumping off the stool and grabbing their forearms, pulling them along. He did an admirable job of hiding it from everyone else, but Sheik spotted the slight limp in his step right away, and frowned. "You can hire me as your bath attendant for the night. I'll cleanse you, and massage you, and—"

"No thanks," Sheik said after Link began looking uncomfortable at the idea. "I know where the baths are, we can—"

"Please?"

The tone, which was so unlike Lor's usually flippant and cheerful one, made them both pause. It was quiet, begging, pleading. He still kept his head down, his hair hiding most of his face from view. Slowly, Sheik placed a finger under Lor's chin and moved it up. His heart thumped angrily in his chest when he saw the darkening bruise that was blossoming just beneath the other boy's eye. This close, he could also see the small speck of dried blood in the corner of one nostril, and the slight cut in his lip. Sheik felt his teeth grinding against each other, and in the corner of his eye he could see Link stiffen when he too noticed what was wrong. Lor's limp was easily explained now.

"Who did this to you?" Sheik asked in a low voice, trying to keep his anger under control.

"Sheik, I—"

" _Who_?"

It was only a glance from Lor, but Sheik immediately identified the culprit. A big, fat Vulture, with a pair of girls sitting on either side of him, drinking heavily. A higher-ranking one, judging by the way a bunch of weaker-looking Vultures sat with him, laughing and congratulating the fat one on...Goddesses knew what. Beating up defenceless pleasure workers, apparently. Rosa's girls didn't at all look happy with their situation either, but at least they weren't getting slapped around.

"Excuse me for a moment," Sheik said. "It seems I have some manners to teach." He made to approach the Vultures' table, but Lor's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Please don't," Lor said quietly. "Rosa's already told him off. He won't be any more trouble."

Sheik shot him an incredulous glance. "You can't be _serious_ ," he hissed. "I'm not letting him get away with this!"

"I don't want any more trouble, Sheik. It's bad enough as it is, I just don't want...I can't... _please_!"

There were few things that could stop Sheik in his tracks twice in one night, but Lor's wavering voice as he _begged_ him to let the whole affair go was one of them. He looked into the black-haired boy's shiny eyes, and saw fear. Utter fear. It had no business in Lor's eyes. Slowly, he nodded, trying to force his heart to beat slower, to turn his anger into something productive instead.

"Fine," he muttered. "Tell Rosa you're hired for the rest of the night. And tomorrow. And the day after."

A cursory glance at Link told him that the Ordonian wholeheartedly approved, after he himself had cast a withering glare in the Vultures' direction. They didn't know it yet, but the Vultures had made themselves a pair of dangerous enemies that night.

"And you're sleeping in my room for that duration," Sheik continued, fighting the urge to draw his pistol (which had long-since dried) and blow the fat Vulture's brains out. "No buts."

"I...okay," Lor said hesitantly. "But what if a customer—"

" _We're_ your customers for the next three days," Link said, his face hardened and so unlike the miserable, confused young man he'd been the day before.

"He's right," Sheik intoned. "Now, I believe we were promised a bath?"

* * *

The next morning, the Vulture was stumbling home in a drunken stupor. The sun had barely begun to rise, but his head was still swimming. His body was delightfully sore and stiff from his activities that night, both carnal and...well, corrective. Where that slut had come from, he'd no idea, but he wasn't going to sit there and let some little poof walk around unpunished. Disgusting, was what it was...but he'd given the little shit what he'd wanted, as well as a little lesson. He would have done so again, but then that fucking nomad and his friend had come in and hired him...oh, the fun it could have been...

He grinned at the hazy memory of it. The little freak _had_ been a good lay, though...

The Vulture turned a corner and headed through an alley, a shortcut to their hideout and, conveniently, out of the guard patrols' way. He should bring the boy here sometime, for another lesson in how to properly please a—

Something bit into his ankle, and he cried out as he stumbled to the ground. He tried to get back up, but his foot wouldn't take his weight. He glanced down, and realised to his horror that something had sliced clean through the tendon. He opened his mouth to shout for help, but a knee slammed into his jaw, cutting his cry short. A vicious jab was then delivered to his throat, and his voice became little more than a croak, not even loud enough to echo in the alley. He tried to lash out at the blur that was attacking him, but every punch was met with something slicing into the tender skin between his knuckles or his into his palms.

"Fucking—"he croaked, but was cut off when the same knee was rammed upwards into his nose, breaking it with a loud crack, warm blood filling his mouth and nostrils.

"You like this?" his attacker asked calmly—male, young. "You like being rendered helpless? Oh, my apologies, I'm not quite finished."

A boot stamped down on the Vulture's hand, breaking the fragile bones in his palm and crushing his fingers. It disappeared, only for its partner to repeat the process with his other hand. The first boot then returned, kicking him hard where his legs connected with the rest of his body. He squeaked, curling up on the ground.

"The boy you hurt yesterday," his attacker said, words barely audible over the blood rushing in the Vulture's ears. "He is a dear friend of mine. I have very few of those, so I think you can understand why I am so upset." The tip of his boot hit the Vulture's solar plexus, causing his entire body to spasm. "And the things you did to him...I would gladly visit them upon you as well, if only the very thought didn't _disgust_ me to the very core of my being. So no, I am giving you the easy way out. No need to thank me, of course."

The Vulture tried to move, to sit up, do _anything_ to fight back, but the bastard had immobilised him. His vision span, both from the beating he'd just received and the alcohol from the night before...but he definitely _heard_ the whisper of a blade sliding against leather. He made a great effort to focus, breaths coming out in short gasps...and the last thing he saw was a pair of red eyes staring into his, before the Sheikah's knife opened his throat from ear to ear.

Sheik watched the man die, wishing dearly that he'd had the time to hurt the man even more for what he did to Lor, but he was already pushing his luck by doing this in broad daylight. He cleaned his dagger and sheathed it, before retrieving a crimson-coloured handkerchief from his pocket and dropping it by the Vulture's body. This way, it would look like the murder had been carried out by the Vultures' rivals, the Red Falcons.

It wouldn't be the first time Sheik had started a gang war, but at least this time he was doing it for a good reason. Or so he told himself. After this, Lor wouldn't have to be afraid of the man coming to the Temple again—and that was all that mattered.


	10. The Parcels

"Here."

Lor looked down at the red gem Sheik was trying to hand him, frowning. "What's this?"

"It's a rupee," Sheik explained patiently. "A precious gem that is only second to gold in its use as currency in trade in Hyrule, and—"

"I know what a rupee is," Lor said, rolling his eyes and wondering if the time had come to finally let Sheik know that he wasn't half as funny as he thought he was. "What are you giving it to me for?" He continued dressing, giving his skirt a distasteful glance. He would definitely have to speak with Madame Rosa about its length again, even though he suspected the conversation would end the exact same way it had last time.

"I'm not giving it to _you_ ," Sheik said, still holding out the gem. "I'm giving it to you to give to Madame Rosa, so that—"

"Sheik, it's been a week." Now it was Lor's turn to adopt the patient tone, even though he was slightly annoyed. He appreciated what Sheik was trying to do, he really did. It was sweet, in a very fucked up way that could only happen in places like this, but it had gone on for long enough. "I have to get back to work."

"Your eye—"

"Will heal in time," Lor interrupted, briefly touching the tender, blue-coloured skin beneath his eye. It still hurt a bit, but not nearly as badly as it had the day after the bruise had been made. "Some even find it attractive. Makes me look dangerous, you know?" He gave the Sheikah a grin, hoping to convey his appreciation of the respite he'd had thanks to Sheik and Link's generosity. "Customers like bad boys."

"The tattoo makes you look dangerous enough," Sheik said, finally letting his hand with the rupee drop along with his gaze, which fastened itself on his boots. It made him look pitiful, sitting on the edge of his bed like that. Like a john who'd just had his desperate marriage proposal turned down.

Lor had to shake his head to banish the mental image of the situation that occurred just about every week at the Temple, though he was glad to say it never happened to him. On the other hand, who would ever...?

"Then I'm twice as dangerous-looking," he said, touching Sheik's shoulder to force the red-eyed boy to look at him. "I appreciate the thought, but I think we both know you're doing this to delay the inevitable."

"The inevitable?" Sheik raised an eyebrow, frowning. It was a very convincing fake confusion he was displaying, but Lor knew him well enough to recognise the signs of his acting. "What are you—"

"Link," Lor said simply, satisfied at the twitch that almost had Sheik jumping off the bed. He loved Sheik, he truly did, but couldn't help but feel frustrated at the way the hunter deliberately went out of his way to make things more difficult sometimes. "I'm not going to ask how far the two of you have gone, but I can definitely tell something's happened between the two of you."

Sheik ducked his head guiltily. "How did you know?" he asked.

The sheer awkwardness with which the two conducted themselves around each other had been the most obvious sign, of course, but then there were the longing gazes, the hesitant yet overtly friendly touches... Sheik was a trained hunter and fighter (and apparently had a skill set that wouldn't be out of place in an assassin's repertoire either), but certain things were just out of his range. Hiding his being smitten with someone was one of these things. Lor couldn't bear breaking it to his friend, however, and simply gave him a smirk.

"I have my ways," he said. "But it's not just that, is it?"

Despite being in the privacy of his room at the Temple, Sheik cast a glance around them, as if to ensure no one else was listening. Lor almost laughed. "No, it's not just that," Sheik admitted, the blush that had been painting his cheeks so far slowly fading.

Lor quenched the urge to grin triumphantly. It was rare to have the usually stoic Sheikah looking so vulnerable, and he'd be damned if he was going to ruin it by being smug. He'd save that for later. "What is it?" he asked instead, already suspecting the reason.

"It's...well, not really your business. Sorry," Sheik muttered, giving him an apologetic look that was quite uncharacteristic.

Lor nodded. Sheik's reply only strengthened his suspicion. "Fair enough, I won't ask. Where is the farmboy, anyway?"

He'd been wondering about that. For the past seven days, Sheik and Link had been inseparable (which had made Lor feel a bit like a third wheel if he was being completely honest, but the two hadn't let him leave their sight either, so what was one to do?), but this morning the Ordonian was nowhere to be seen. Sheik had slept in, only waking at around ten in the morning, by which time the other blonde had already gone.

"Getting himself a new wardrobe," Sheik explained, standing up and walking to the window, throwing it open to let in fresh air. The room was quickly filled with the cacophony of the city outside. "Kind of ruined if it when we crept through the sewers the other night. Can't have him walking around in my clothes all the time."

"Especially since they don't fit him," Lor said, chuckling a little. "When his trousers split yesterday..."

Sheik joined him in laughing at the memory. "It was a rather...strategic spot, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Poor thing, I've never seen someone so red!"

The mirth continued for another few minutes, both of them struggling to let go of the flustered and embarrassed expression the Ordonian's face had taken on after his trousers had given up the struggle just as he'd gotten up to fetch more drinks during their card game the night before. Link had worn underclothes, of course, but it was still a part of his body he'd never willingly put on display...or, at least not for someone who wasn't Sheik. That thought made Lor want to ask Sheik how far they'd gone more than ever, but he fought that urge once more.

"And your wardrobe?" Lor asked instead, remembering the smell the two of them had trekked in that night. Madame Rosa had had their clothes incinerated the day after, insisting they were a health hazard. "You've plenty of clothes here, but none of them seem appropriate for hunting..."

"I gave Link a list of tailors who have my measurements, and an advance to give them. They'll know what to make," Sheik explained, leaning on the windowsill and staring into the street outside.

Probably scouting for Link, Lor assumed, imagining the Sheikah in front of him vibrating with excitement the moment he spotted the Ordonian, like an excited dog spotting his master. The thought nearly made him laugh again.

"Surprised you're not with him," Lor said. "I know how particular you are with your equipment..."

"Mhm," Sheik grunted noncommittally. "Needed some time to think."

"About?"

"How I'm going to explain the necessity of blowing up one of the central sewer cisterns to the princess, for one." Sheik sighed and fished a golf-leafed piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Lor. "There's to be a masquerade tomorrow night."

"Sounds like fun," Lor said, examining the elegant handwriting in the invitation. It was signed by Princess Zelda herself, her mark delicately drawn next to her signature. "Hobnobbing with the nobs. And in disguise, at that. Sounds like the sort of party you'd _actually_ enjoy because no one would know who or what you are." Lor narrowed his eyes. "And I'm sure the princess will understand why it was necessary. You were on a hunt, after all."

"My hunts have never damaged a vital part of the city's infrastructure before," Sheik muttered. "Fifty thousand rupees to repair, apparently."

Lor tried not to choke on the amount. That was more money than he'd ever collectively see in his life...or several lives. Hundreds, really. "She's not asking you to pay for the repairs, is she?"

"She didn't say," Sheik replied, leaving it at that. "And as for the masquerade...well, I've been to one before. Didn't like it."

"Well, you've been invited, so you have to go."

"She invited Link as well."

"Oh?"

"Yes. That's why I sent him out for a new wardrobe today in particular. With a set of instructions on what colours and styles he's _not_ to wear, of course. He may be from the country, but that is no excuse to dress sloppily. He will be in the presence of the kingdom's elite, after all."

There was a slight upturn to the Sheikah's nose as he spoke. It was a habit he'd picked up from his time at the castle, Lor assumed. Or his aunt, possibly. Lor had never met the Master Hunter, but she was apparently a very stern woman who'd insisted on Sheik staying at the castle for as long as possible, either to gain favour with the princess or instil certain values in her nephew. Goddesses knew which of these was the reason—even Sheik had confessed he did not truly understand his aunt's motivations for any of her actions that did not directly impact the hunters' ability to operate properly.

"I assume you'll be teaching him the etiquette as well?" Lor asked. "Can't imagine he'd get much practice in Ordon."

"You're right—he is _not_ looking forward to it."

"Who would be?"

"I'll have you know that I'm an _excellent_ teacher," Sheik said, sounding offended. "Why, he'll be perfectly able to navigate his way among the socialites by the time I'm done with him."

Lor shook his head. "I meant, who would _want_ to learn all that in the first place?"

Sheik frowned. "That...is a good question."

In the distance, the clocks of the city struck noon, and the numerous church and bell towers began to chime. Peel after peel of melodious notifications of the hours that had passed echoed across the rooftops and through the streets. Lor sighed and stood up, disappearing behind the changing screen to finish dressing. He emerged seconds later and walked up to Sheik, touching his shoulder.

"My shift just started," he said, gently kissing the Sheikah's cheek. "Thank you for the past week—I really needed the break. Come back after the masquerade if you need help winding down..."

"Hm, and because you want to hear all about the party," Sheik grunted again, smiling slightly. "Let me know if anyone bothers you again."

"Bring me something from the castle, and you've got a deal."

* * *

Link only barely managed to keep his footing when he tripped on his way out of the tailor's shop, though he lost his grip on the many parcels he was carrying. He cursed under his breath as the paper-wrapped parcels scattered all over the cobbles outside the shop, one nearly landing in a puddle of filthy water. He ducked his head as he tried to gather the packages, ignoring the chuckles from the shoppers around him who enjoyed his misery. If there was one thing he'd learned since arriving in Castle Town, it was that city folk were a lot of utter bastards sometimes. That, and to never trust a shopkeeper's word on the price of an item, tailor's least of all.

Was it the same in every city in the world? Or was it just the residents of Castle Town who seemed to enjoy the sight of newcomers humiliating themselves? No one even offered to help him pick up his scattered parcels...

"Allow me."

A pair of boot-clad feet appeared in his field of vision, and someone bent down to retrieve the scattered items farthest from Link's reach. The Ordonian stood up, trying not to appear _too_ embarrassed at his predicament (if only to not further fuel the glee of those who'd laughed at him). "Thank you," he said, clearing his throat. "You're the only one who's offered to help."

The man was a rich one. That was obvious from the his expensive-looking clothes (which made Link feel like a vagabond, despite the fact that the clothes he'd borrowed from Sheik were actually of high quality themselves, if rather plain), and his graceful manner of moving. A heavily ornate fencing blade hung from his hip, partially obscured by his long coat, which was black with a dark purple trim. His hair, long and a peculiar slate-like shade of grey, was tied back by a ribbon that matched his coat. His eyes were amber, almost yellow at the irises, sharpening his gaze. He looked to be in his thirties, perhaps somewhere in the middle. Not old, but not quite young either.

He picked up the last of the packages and carefully arranged them in his arms, looking doubtful about giving them back to Link, who was already quite over-burdened. "Despite being a bastion of civilisation," the man said with a frown, "most of the inhabitants of this city have little to no manners. I apologise on their behalf."

"It's all right," Link said, wondering why the man wasn't handing the parcels back instead of merely adjusting his grip on them. "Was my own fault, not looking before stepping..."

The man frowned a little deeper. "Even so, I find it terribly impolite not to offer assistance." He paused. "Your accent...would I be incorrect in assuming you are new to the city?"

Now it was Link's turn to frown. Was it really that obvious that he wasn't from Castle Town? He knew the way he spoke was different to, say, the way Sheik did...but he'd just assumed that was because Sheik had been raised in at the royal court. If people could immediately tell he was just a damn country bumpkin from the way he pronounced certain things, then...then perhaps it was no wonder why the shopkeepers treated him like an idiot.

The man seemed to realise something as his eyes widened slightly. "Now _I_ should apologise," he said, shaking his head. "That was terribly rude of me. I did not mean to imply anything. I just recognised your dialect as a south-eastern one." He looked a bit embarrassed even, tightening his hold on the packages. "Languages are a bit of a hobby of mine, you see, and none of them are dearer to me than our own mother tongue, which is why I have devoted quite a bit of time to learning about its many facets, and I have spent some time in the region close to the Lost Woods and..."

Link couldn't stand the way he'd made the man babble, and quickly nodded and gave him a smile. "You're right, actually. I'm from there. I'm not offended, I promise—just a bit annoyed by the way people assume I'm stupid just because I'm not from around here and tal—speak a little differently."

That seemed to cheer the man a little, and he smiled back. "A justifiable annoyance, to be sure," he said. "It is an unfortunate attitude, especially seeing as the city could not possibly survive without the resources it receives _from_ the same regions they mock. And I would be impressed if even one out of a hundred here knows how to...oh, I don't know, milk a cow."

Link grinned. "Or churn butter."

"Or grow something that isn't a big ego."

Link found himself laughing along with the man at that. He had a good point—how many in Castle Town knew any skills that would be useful _outside_ of the city? Very few, he assumed.

"Ah, but I am still being quite rude," the man said, still smiling. "I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Ascal."

That was surprising. From his appearance and mannerisms, Link had assumed the man in front of him to be a lord of some kind, but the lack of a family or bastard name marked him as a commoner. How was that even possible?

"Er...mine's Link," he replied. "I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit..." He glanced down at his arms, which were still heavily occupied.

"I cannot really say mine are in a better position," Ascal replied, grinning. "Quite heavy, these. Clothes?"

Link nodded, deciding not to mention what _sort_ of clothes they were. From what he'd understood so far the existence of hunters was not a guarded secret, but certain details might be best to leave out regardless. "Yeah," he said, leaving it at that. "I can take those, if you'll—"

"Nonsense," Ascal said, turning away slightly. "Carrying so many parcels on your own is a recipe for disaster, or at the very least more episodes like this one. Please, allow me to assist you."

"Thank you," Link said, "but you've wasted enough time helping me—"

"Helping people is far from a waste of time, in my opinion," Ascal interrupted, caring little for how rude _that_ was, apparently. "In fact, it is every man's _duty_ to do so when given the opportunity." He turned his piercing gaze on Link, giving him a grin. "Now, where to?"

Link tried to think of a way to protest, but realised that Ascal would probably double down on his argument no matter what he said...and carrying all the packages on his own all the way back to the Temple _would_ be a pain in the neck. "All right," he said hesitantly. "But only to the Shades, all right?"

"The Shades?" Ascal said, raising an eyebrow. "That is where you are staying?"

"Is that a problem?" Link asked. "I'm not exactly rich, you know..."

"Not at all," Ascal quickly recovered, smiling. "Shall we?"

As they began to navigate their way out of the busy shopping district, Link failed to notice the two pairs of eyes that were watching them carefully from the mouth of an alley. He'd failed to notice them all morning, in fact.

* * *

Nikal turned her head to look at Eren, biting her lip. "Who _is_ that?" she asked.

"Don't know," Eren replied, shaking his head. "Never seen 'im before. Looks like a nob, but..."

"He's carrying way too many weapons for that," Nikal finished, confirming her analysis with Eren's. The fencing blade was a distraction from the multitude of other, hidden blade handles that had dotted the man's coat and pockets. "Those colours, though...I've seen 'em before somewhere. Probably works for some nob up in the Gardens."

The two of them watched Link and the newcomer carefully before they disappeared from view. Eren looked at Nikal. "Should we tell the boss?" he asked.

"Let's watch first," Nikal said. "Could just be a decent fellow."

The snort from Eren told her just what he thought of _that_ hypothesis, but he nodded anyway. "All right. Let's go."

* * *

They parted at the border of the Shades, the imaginary line where the _bad_ part of Castle Town began. Ascal had offered to help Link the entire way, but the Ordonian felt guilty enough having taken up so much of the older man's time already. He almost had to _argue_ with him to agree, and Ascal only relented after Link (very politely) argued that someone wearing expensive clothes like Ascal's would quickly find himself a target for the area's many pickpockets and other thieves.

"Ah, perhaps you are right," Ascal said with an agreeing nod and touching the handle of his fencing blade. "I am quite able to defend myself with this, but I suppose the technique I employ would be...lacking when dealing with the kind of thugs and other filth that breed in places like these. Not that I am implying that you are...would become...er..."

"I know, I know," Link said, smiling. "Thanks for the help, Mister Ascal—"

"Just Ascal, please. I am not a lord; I just serve one."

"Thanks, Ascal."

"My pleasure. Until next time, Link."

"Oh, I, er..."

Thankfully, Ascal wasn't listening to his stuttering and clumsy reply, having already begun to walk away. He did turn and give Link a small wink, but that was it...and then he was gone, turning a corner and heading in the direction of the Gardens, the city's high-class district.

Struggling with his load, Link went on his way to the Temple, hoping that Sheik would be happy with his purchases. The hunting clothes were a given, seeing as they had been made with Sheik's specifications, but Link was mostly worried about the masquerade outfit. He'd had no idea what to go for, and had simply gone along with what the tailor had suggested. Surely someone in that profession would be attentive to the quality of their wares since it'd be on display at the royal court? The masks had been a challenge too, but he'd gone for what he felt was appropriate for the two of them.

He still didn't notice that he was being kept under watch, though this time by more than two pairs of eyes.


	11. The Masquerade

The carriage wheels rattled across the cobbles as the buildings passed by outside the windows. It had been a dreary day, overcast and grey, but the lights of the city, particularly in the Gardens district, created a brilliant display. The lamps here were creations of pure artistry, twisting and bending, decorated and embossed, fuelled by proper gas lines that kept the flame burning constantly instead of randomly sputtering and winking out of existence until one of the many lamplighters employed by the city could set it aflame once more.

Compared to the Shades, where darkness was one's ally and the lack of light really did everyone a favour in hiding the worst of the activities carried out in its bowels and the misery they created, the Gardens welcomed any visitor's inquisitive gaze, encouraged the eyes of strangers to get a good look at the opulence and luxuriousness. It invited those who merely came to visit to grow indignant at the sheer amount of rupees spent on maintaining the small patches of grass and delicate rose bushes in front of the doors, the expensive metals used to create the spiked fences that kept anyone but the masters of the houses out, the armed guards wearing the family colours.

The entire place said "You may look, but do not touch, or else..." The implied threat was revolting, the arrogance unbearable. And knowing the type of people from whom it originated...

Sheik counted himself lucky he only ever came through here occasionally, and only because it was the only path to the palace. If he ever had to conduct a hunt here, he might have been tempted to let whatever beast whose trail he was on rampage freely for a bit before magnanimously offering his services...for a hefty price, of course. Zelda and Impa's allowances had enabled him to keep his services mostly gratis (though the relative lack of beasts outside of the occasional shrieker infestation in the numerous airy attics around the city had also helped quite a bit), but for the people in the Gardens he would be happy to make an exception. After all, they could afford it.

He was drawn out of his fantasies by the fidgeting Ordonian next to him in the carriage, and he glanced over at him. "Is something the matter?" he asked, noting that Link was pawing at his tunic.

He'd been surprised by Link's restraint in the choosing of his masquerade outfit. Where most people would choose the most garish and eye-catching combination of colours they could imagine (for how else was one to catch the attention of one's betters at an event where one's face was to be kept hidden?), Link had chosen a two-coloured scheme instead: green and pale, almost silvery, blue. The green dominated most of his tunic and trousers, with the details and seams done in blue, along with a smattering of star-shaped patterns around his shoulders. It was simple and tasteful, and while the Ordonian probably wouldn't be particularly loud in his appearance, it was certainly eye-catching.

 _And mine,_ he added, remembering the kiss they'd shared in the moat the week before. They hadn't kissed since then, or even talked about it because of the nasty business with Lor and their attempts to give him a little peace of mind afterwards...but the looks they'd shared told Sheik that nothing had changed about _that_.

"I don't think I'll be able to fool anyone there," Link confessed, sighing. "They'll know right away that I'm not one of them."

"And?" Sheik asked. "We're not there to blend in with them. Frankly, it is not a crowd you wish to become a part of...unless you've a penchant for acting superior and snotty, discussing your disgustingly vast fortune, and inbreeding for sake of keeping said fortune within the already thoroughly inbred family."

Link snorted at that, but the corners of his mouth remained downturned. "And if they throw us out?"

"They won't," Sheik assured him. "We are there on a personal invitation from the princess herself. It'll take a little more than not acting like a high-born twit to get tossed out on your arse...and even then I think you'd be better off than being accepted as one of them."

Link gave him a surprised look. "You don't like the nobles very much, do you?"

"You are correct."

"But...you act like one of them, speak like one of them..."

Sheik gave him a long, serious stare before shrugging. "A consequence of my upbringing at the castle, nothing more. Just because I know how to act around them doesn't mean I _am_ one of them. The first lord or lady you'll talk to will almost certainly happily affirm their belief that my people is nothing more than a scourge that needs to be wiped out, a menace to polite society. The same polite society, I might add, which tried to exterminate the Sheikah in the same way they wiped out the Gorons of Death Mountain and nearly did the same to the Zora before they admitted defeat and fled to Termina." He found himself glaring out the window once more, clenching his jaw. "The only reason we weren't destroyed is because we look _just_ enough like Hylians for it to be...slightly distasteful, and because we were smart enough to send several clans out of Hyrule, just in case things went..."

A hand found his and squeezed it. "I'm sorry," Link said. "I didn't mean—"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Sheik said hurriedly, annoyed with himself for losing his temper at such an innocuous question. Link couldn't possibly have known, nor would he understand the centuries of resentment that had built up—after all, he was a Hylian. He'd never suffered the kind of discrimination or hatred the Sheikah, Gorons, or Zora had. But that wasn't the Ordonian's fault, and he was far from the sort that would agree with the nobles. "Your mask?"

"Right here," Link said, letting go of his hand and wisely going along with the change of subject as he retrieved the wolf mask from a bag on the carriage seat. It was quite realistic, its fangs bared in a growl, as if to ward off anyone foolish enough to start trouble with the young farmhand. "Want yours?"

Sheik nodded, smiling slightly when a feline-type, dark blue mask was deposited in his lap. "Is this how you see me?" he asked in an amused tone. "As a cat?"

"Ever pissed one off?" Link asked, shaking his head. "They're calm and graceful until you get on their nerves, at which point they lash out faster than lightning. You feel lucky to be alive after an encounter like that, really. That's you, in my mind. Plus, they're hunters too, so it fits. And I kind of ran out of ideas at the mask shop...couldn't really imagine you as a peacock, you know?"

"I certainly hope not," Sheik said with a snort, noting with some amusement that the colours of the mask and his outfit (A purplish-blue suit with white and red highlights) matched. "A cat will do nicely, I agree. Just don't tell my aunt, or she'll compare me to a kitten whose claws haven't grown."

"Really?"

"Yes."

 _She really would,_ Sheik thought, already feeling the annoyance creeping up on him, like it so often did when he thought of Impa. She meant well (or so he hoped), but her so-called encouragement served more to inspire anger rather than motivation.

Link opened his mouth to say something, but his attention was immediately drawn by the massive courtyard the carriage had just pulled into, wheels raking across the gravel that covered the open space before the entrance to the palace. There was a small queue of carriages leading up to the entrance, which moved at a snail's pace because of the spectacle that was a noble couple emerging from their wagons. Sheik had no patience for this. He knocked on the roof of their carriage, and the driver stopped it some distance away from the queue.

"We will walk from here, thank you very much," Sheik said, pressing a few coins into the driver's hand, ignoring the glare he received from the man. He wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the man's ire, but he strongly suspected it was the hue of his eyes that had triggered it. Still, he made no comment, so Sheik decided to let the matter go, as he usually did. Some battles were pointless to even _begin_ fighting.

Link had certainly noticed, and the glare he aimed at the driver's back as his carriage rolled away could have melted ice.

"I'm used to it," Sheik told him. "Don't waste your energy on him."

"Arsehole," Link muttered under his breath.

"Now, now," Sheik scolded him gently, trying to elicit a smile from the Ordonian. "That is _not_ appropriate language for when you meet the princess. Please don't embarrass yourself—and more importantly, _me_ —in front of her."

Link nodded. "Still wonder why I'm even here," he said.

"Presumably she wants to thank you for saving my sorry hide from the lycanthrope, and, when I tell her about it, in the sewers," Sheik explained as they approached the palace entrance, the stairs to which dominated the massive building's front. A red carpet covered most of the steps leading up to the doors, which were taller than three men and massive enough to require a complex set of weights and cogs to open and close. "Princess Zelda is a very generous person," he continued. "I imagine she'll want to offer you a reward."

"A reward?"

"Your own weight in gold, perhaps, or—"

"I don't want my own weight in gold."

Sheik paused, looking at the Ordonian. "Then what do you want?" he asked, honestly curious. When they'd first met, money had been the only thing on Link's mind, but now... Well, he had a strong suspicion, but he couldn't just assume he knew Link's every desire.

"You know what I want," Link replied, staring back. "And you still haven't told me what you think of it."

"Because I still haven't made up my mind," Sheik said, nodding at his suspicion being confirmed. "But I'm glad to know your position hasn't changed, at least. You will have my answer soon. For now, however, I would ask you to bear what will surely be an insufferable evening in my company." He put on his mask, which covered the top half of his face, ending just above his mouth. It did an admirable job at hiding his eyes as well, which was good. It meant it would take some effort on the part of the nobles to recognise who he was. "Shall we?"

Link nodded, putting on his own. With a wolf face, he looked quite fierce. "Lead the way."

* * *

"And there is no way I can convince you to stay?"

"Sorry, but every man has his limits, and I've reached mine." Angen shook his head and loaded the last of his supplies onto the cart, patting the horse's flank when it gave a nervous snort. In the distance, at the other end of the pass, dark clouds were rolling in. The rumbles of thunder echoed between the mountains, amplifying them. It was no wonder the poor animal was nervous. "And I've no intention of getting caught up here when that weather hits this place."

Impa wanted to grimace, but she managed to keep her face carefully neutral as she nodded. "I understand," she said. "I do not blame you for wanting to leave...though I wish you would wait until the storm is over. The risk of flooding is—"

"Acceptable," Angen interrupted, shaking his head. "After you brought that... _thing_ inside, I feel safer braving the waters. As long as I reach the falls before the rain really sets in, I will be fine." He covered up the cart with tarpaulin to protect the contents of his bags and chests before coming to stand in front of her, holding out his hand. "I'm sorry for leaving you high and dry like this, but—"

"There is no need to explain, Angen," Impa said calmly, understandingly. "You warned me about this when you first arrived, and I finally crossed the line. I could give you a spiel about how it's all necessary, but it will do little to convince you, I'm sure." She shook his hand firmly. "I am grateful for the services you have provided us—the hunters will never forget you."

"Much appreciated—and now you finally have an excuse to hire a proper physician to tend to your wounded and sick instead of a failed horse doctor, eh?" Angen laughed as he swung himself into the driver's seat and grabbing the reins. "Best of luck to you, Master Impa, and to the hunters."

"Likewise, Angen. You'd better get going if you want to leave the pass before the storm truly hits," Impa said, screwing her eyes shut as a particularly vicious gust cleared the Studio's walls and turned the courtyard into a wind tunnel. "And again, thank you for everything."

His reply was lost in the howls of the wind in her ears. She did not watch him leave, opting instead to go back inside the keep and shut the door firmly behind her. The thud resounded in the empty hall before her, and she could hear the whistling of the wind through the many holes in the attic. If it started to rain (more a question of _when_ , really), the Studio would definitely experience a minor flood. She'd have to remind everyone to stay out of the cellars for the time being. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door, fighting the urge to slam her fist into it. The situation was getting worse and worse. She could handle losses to beasts or natural causes, but desertion...

That was unfair. Angen had never signed a contract, had never sworn his life to the cause. He'd stuck around because the money was good and the work predictable, if not always easy. He'd always claimed that he'd move on someday, but Impa had counted on that day never coming. Had she known he'd react so badly to the latest experiment, she would have had the twins perform it somewhere else rather than inside the Studio, but...well, no use crying over spilled milk, as her sister would have put it.

"Something wrong?"

She looked up. Ayla was standing at the top of the stairs leading to the workshops, geared up. One of the experimental pistols was holstered at her side, alongside the multitude of regular, single-shot ones she usually carried.

"Angen's gone," Impa said, wondering if the Gerudo had been paying attention to _anything_ other than what went on inside her workshop. "He's had enough."

"Oh."

Clearly, she hadn't.

"He just left," Impa continued, pushing away from the door and heading towards the stairs, her cane clicking on the ancient stone with every step. "Wanted to leave the pass before the storm hits." She studied Ayla closely. "If you have a hunt to conduct, I suggest you wait until it's over. There'll be flooding, I'm sure."

The Gerudo hesitated, looking from Impa, to the door, and back. "How bad?"

"I doubt he'll make it."

Ayla deflated with a sigh. "Damn it...and you didn't try to stop him?"

"I did," Impa said, feeling slightly offended. "He wouldn't listen, and you know how stubborn he can be."

"Hm," the Gerudo grunted. "Guess I'll have to do my field tests later, then."

Together they ascended the stairs and entered the workshops again. The long stone hall was quiet these days. Too quiet. Impa had never seen the Studio completely full—that had been a century ago at the very least—but these days their numbers seemed to grow smaller and smaller every day, and wandering past the empty nooks and crannies the hunters had marked as their own only served to remind her of how far they'd fallen, even in the short time _she_ had been in charge.

"How many are out?" Impa asked, trying to focus on the hunters who were still around.

"Two dozen, maybe?" Ayla said. "Tira's party left two days ago."

"The troll cave, right?" Impa asked, not really recalling the particular details of the hunt they'd accepted.

"Yeah, they've been breeding again, getting bolder. Took a couple of kids from Passdale, and killed the men sent after them. In need of a culling, Tira decided. She took Kafei and Elenwe with her." Ayla grimaced. "I asked her to take one of my guns, but she refused. Said she didn't want unreliable and untested equipment, the meanie."

Impa smiled at that. "Well, you can't blame her, you _did_ say there were several minor issues to correct...such as the rounds going off on their own?"

"That happened _once_! And that was only because _someone_ set a clip down on top of the stove!" The Gerudo huffed, crossing her arms as they passed the hunter in question's booth and casting a deadly glare into the dark abode. The man was lucky he was out on a hunt, or he'd find himself withering under that stare. "Last time I let him touch any of my stuff!"

"In Myde's defence—"

"Nope!"

Impa shook her head and looked away. For someone who claimed to hate Myde, Ayla certainly spent a lot of time talking about him. She dared not think about what would happen if their booths were next to each other—none of the hunters would be able to sleep, for one.

Outside, there was a loud clap of thunder, the flash of lightning momentarily illuminating the entire workshop area. The rain followed soon after, pouring through an open window high overhead. Impa sighed. "I'd hoped to have more time before the rain started," she said, looking at Ayla "Better fetch the others."

"Patch duty again?" Ayla asked, sounding none-too-thrilled.

"Do you prefer drowning?" Impa replied. "I'll tell Cyran to bring out the tiles."

* * *

"Your invitations, my lords?"

Sheik elegantly presented the gold-leafed letter from the princess to the doorman, who, after a moment of careful inspection, nodded to the halberdiers who were blocking the door itself. They uncrossed their weapons and stood aside, allowing the two to enter.

"Just a reminder, my lords," the doorman continued before they had a chance to start moving. "If you are found to be in possession of blades, firearms, or any other type of weapons that is not a pre-approved dining utensil while in the palace, you will be severely punished." The smile under his mask was crooked and wry, which had Sheik wondering if he was acknowledging the fact that, if they were determined enough, miscreants could easily smuggle weapons into the palace, or if he was simply being an arse because he recognised that neither Sheik nor Link truly belonged at a civilised occasion such as the masquerade.

"We will keep that in mind, sir, thank you very much," Sheik offered sweetly, doffing an imaginary hat on his head and more or less dragging Link inside before the Ordonian could offer an acidic remark in return. "Again, no point in wasting your time or breath on people like him."

"So you just accept whatever abuse people offer you?" Link asked, sounding unhappy. "How do you stand it?"

"As I said, I am quite used to it," Sheik replied, patting Link's shoulder. "Besides, they're just words. What can they possibly do to harm me?"

"It's not the words that worry me," Link muttered.

Their footsteps echoed through the marbled halls that led towards the ballroom. This part of the palace was different; newer than the rather austere sections that the princess preferred to make use of while conducting her day-to-day business of ruling the realm. They felt more honest, she claimed. More real. It made her feel a connection to her ancestors, to spend her time surrounded by the same stone as they'd been. Sheik wasn't about to air his thoughts on _that_ particular aspect of his adopted sister—he was just happy she didn't feel the need to run off all the time like she had as a child.

They passed by several shadowy alcoves, one of which a couple of masked nobles was already making full use of for a romantic rendezvous, accompanied by the muffled music played by the orchestra. Sheik ignored them, but Link definitely found the sight interesting. When the woman giggled, however, his blush became visible on the part of his face that _wasn't_ covered by his mask, and he hurried to catch up with Sheik.

"Not really appropriate behaviour at the royal palace," Sheik said with a sniff. "Fun, I imagine, but still..."

They turned a corner, and this hall was filled with more masked guests, conversing and drinking with each other. They perked up at the sight of new arrivals, but quickly lost interest when neither of them stopped to have a word or two. Another corner, and they were nearly assaulted by the sounds of music and the majority of the masquerade guests, who had congregated in the palace's spacious garden courtyard. Long tables had been set up, with every kind of food imaginable covering their surfaces. The gazebos had been richly decorated with the last living flowers of the season. Paper lanterns floated along the artificial river than meandered its way through the garden, casting delicate light on the party. The orchestra was playing on a raised podium in the very middle of the garden, currently entertaining the guests with an upbeat, slightly folksy tune that was only well-received because the nobles here found it charming and rustic.

And as for the guests...there were far more of them than Sheik had expected. Every single ruling family and members of the merchants' guilds must have found a gap in their busy schedules to attend this party. There was barely a single patch of the garden that wasn't occupied by someone wearing the colours of a prominent family or business, masks of every shape and size dotting the landscape. He was already getting a headache from the sheer noise of the place, much less the colour-combinations that only served to sting one's eyes with how horrid they were.

 _Turquoise and pink was never a combination meant for mortal eyes!_ Sheik thought, having to physically turn his head away from the noblewoman who'd clearly felt otherwise about her choice in party outfits.

Next to him, he could practically _hear_ the cricks and cracks in Link's neck as the Ordonian tried to take it all in at once, turning his head this way and that. If the wonders of the city at large had been overwhelming when he'd first arrived, Sheik could only imagine how Link was feeling about a party like _this_.

 _Probably trying to preserve his vision, just like me,_ he thought, spotting another absolutely hideous combination (pus yellow and garish green) in the distance.

"Are all these people nobs?" Link asked.

"It's a fairly healthy mix of nobles and other rich citizens of the realm," Sheik said, deciding that they couldn't hover on the periphery of the party all evening. Already he could see several heads turning to regard them suspiciously. Not that the two of them had anything to fear from these people, but all in all Sheik preferred to blend in rather than stick out like a sore thumb. His gaze fastened on one of the long tables laden with delicate dishes, and his stomach gave an emphatic growl. "I'm feeling peckish—let's get something to eat."

Link certainly seemed to appreciate the food, not to mention the sheer variety. Sheik briefly considered reminding him how to properly conduct himself when eating from the rich selection of exotic dishes and wares, but one quick glance at the other guests, half of whom were already quite drunk, he decided not to. He doubted a sober Link could possibly raise more ire from the footmen and nobles than their inebriated compatriots, one illustrious member of which was taking the liberty of relieving himself into the artificial river.

 _Zelda won't be happy about that_ , he thought, helping himself to a fried scallop, wondering why people thought of it as a delicacy when, to him, it simply tasted like the sea—briny and disgusting. He washed the flavour away with a strawberry (and then another two for good measure), not noticing how closely Link was watching him as he did so. The wolf-masked youth quickly went back to his own dishes when Sheik glanced at him.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"No, really. What's wrong? Did I spill something on myself?" Sheik glanced down at his suit, finding it immaculate and free of any spots whatsoever.

"It's really nothing," Link insisted. "It's just...didn't know you like those so much."

Sheik looked down at his hand. His fingers were clutched around another red berry, and he quickly let go. He had never been a difficult person to please when it came to food (with the exception of certain things fished out of the sea which had no place on one's plate), and he wasn't sure if he had anything he could call a "favourite", but if he did then strawberries were as close to one as he could get. Zelda had quickly found that out soon after his arrival at the castle, and had ordered crates of the things.

"I like them a normal amount," Sheik said, picking it back up and popping it into his mouth.

"Now that's a lie if I ever heard one."

He froze, and felt the juices dribbling down his chin. Slowly, he turned around and came face to face (or, rather, mask to mask) with a woman dressed in a regal purple outfit, a far cry from the elaborate dresses and skirts worn by the other female attendees of the masquerade. Her mask was in the shape of a noble bird of some sort, most likely an eagle based on the sharpness of the beak. Her face was hidden by it, but the slight quirk to her lips gave her away.

"As I recall," she continued, "you stuffed yourselves with the things until you had to lie down with a stomach ache on more than one occasion. There weren't enough strawberries for my birthday cake that one time. Father was laughing too hard to even punish you."

 _Impa didn't_ , Sheik recalled, hoping Link couldn't see his blush. "At least I didn't decide to take a bath in the fountain and then try to blame it on me when you were discovered," he countered, knowing immediately that he'd chosen the right story with which to embarrass her.

"You—"

"And then streak naked through the council chamber when my aunt tried to chase you down with a towel," he finished, grinning wickedly at her. However, she didn't bite, merely crossing her arms and giving him an unimpressed frown.

"It was a hot day."

Link choked on something, and Sheik quickly turned to pat him on the back. "You all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, but...who is...is that...?"

"Where are my manners?" Sheik turned to the eagle-masked woman and smiled. "Link, let me introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda of Hyrule." He gave her a short bow as well, nodding with approval when Link mirrored his movement perfectly, just the way he'd taught him at the Temple.

"Your Highness," Link greeted as he straightened up, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. He couldn't put them in his pockets (because that is very rude), but holding them at his sides betrayed his nervousness. Zelda quickly took care of that problem for him, however, by stepping forward and taking his hands in hers, giving him a bright smile.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving Sheik's life, Link of Ordon," she said. "No matter how much he likes to pretend he is, Sheik is not yet a Master Hunter. He likes to take chances he shouldn't, and knowing he has someone like you at his side to ensure he stays out of trouble...well, it fills me with relief. And rest assured, I have my best men investigating what happened to your village. The ones responsible _will_ be punished, I assure you."

"T-Thank you, Ma'am," Link stuttered, unsure of how to react, not expecting such a warm and verbose welcome from the princess herself. "I...don't know what to say."

"Well, you can regale with the story of your hunts," Zelda suggested, giving Sheik a sidelong glance from beneath her mask. "While I always enjoy Sheik's retellings of his exploits, I cannot help but wonder if he embellishes them a little. I would certainly like to hear your side of the story...not to mention the reason for why it was necessary to damage a rather substantial part of my city's sewer system." The glance turned into a glare. "I hope it was a good one."

"It was necessary for our survival," Sheik said, but Zelda stopped him with a raised hand.

"I'm sure it was, but I would like to hear what Link has to say about it."

There was no arguing with that tone, and Sheik resigned himself to listening as Link did his best to tell the princess about his first hunt. As he listened, he couldn't help but feel that he was being observed, but he could not find the sources of said observation, only a faceless sea of masks.

* * *

"Looks younger than I expected."

Ascal nodded, only half-listening to his lord as he carefully observed his quarry. The Sheikah would certainly be a challenge, but the boy from Ordon...well, he'd already gotten into his good graces. "The Sheikah don't have time for childhoods, my lord. They're put to work as soon as they can walk. He may be young, but I assure you that he is more dangerous than any soldier twice his age."

"Barbarians," the young lord muttered. "Still, I suppose that's why they breed the best warriors in the world."

"They used to, at least," Ascal agreed. "These days, I'm surprised there's enough of them to keep the bloodlines alive. I've certainly done my fair share to keep that number down."

"How many?"

Ascal sipped at his wine, trying to remember. "At least ten, perhaps twelve...though I suspect those two were bastard half-breeds with no clan affiliation. Not really worth killing, but they just wouldn't back off." He shuddered slightly at the memory of that night, and the screams. "I warned them. Multiple times."

"They should have known better, then."

"Hmph, they were young, angry. They wouldn't have known what was good for them even if it bit their arses." Ascal turned to regard his young lord, wondering how much older than those half-Sheikah boys he was. Not by much. A few years, not more than three. He'd cut them down in their prime. All for one pint too many. _He_ should have known better, really, but he'd been angry himself, back then. "The princess...are you going to speak with her tonight?"

"I must," the young lord insisted, lips set in a tight line beneath the tiger face that was his mask. "Being on the council has been less than useless so far. If I can make her see the wisdom in at least delegating _some_ of her daily tasks to us, then surely we will be able to convince her of the wisdom in our plans. She may be content to let Hyrule fall to pieces, but I'm not. Steps must be taken, before it is too late." He paused, hiccupping. He always did, when he was nervous. Ascal found it endearing. "Damn..."

"Here, drink from the other side of the cup."

"Will that help?"

"My mother claimed it does."

Ascal had to keep his laughter to himself when his young master tried (and failed) to drink from the opposite side of his wine cup, giving him a deadly glare for the (imagined) humiliation of it. If there was one thing the young man needed, in Ascal's opinion, it was to take himself less seriously. Of course, with the values his father had instilled in him, that was unlikely to ever happen, but Ascal was nothing if not persistent.

"That wasn't funny," the lord said with a scowl, his whole body jumping with each hiccup.

"I beg to differ."

* * *

"I see," Zelda said when Link finished his story, nodding slowly. "So...if you hadn't destroyed the cistern..."

"We wouldn't have been alive to be standing here, ma'am," Link said, giving her a shallow bow.

The princess took a moment to consider all she had heard, making a big show of appearing to seriously ponder the implications, as if she hadn't been laughing to the point of snorting at the idea of Sheik diving into filthy sewage, even if it had been to avoid his throat ripped open by monstrous rats. "Well, I suppose it would be tyrannical of me to lambast either of you for serving the city, even if it meant inflicting so much damage on it. You're lucky no one got hurt, though." She fixed Sheik with a firm stare. "What if you'd found them beneath the arsenal? One stray spark could have blown half the city to bits."

"If there was any serious risk of that, I would have found another way to deal with them," Sheik told her. "I also happen to know that the arsenal has its own, separate waste disposal system that isn't connected in any way to the one I blew up. There was never any risk of that. But I see your point, and I hope you understand that I would never willingly put innocents at risk. That's not what a hunter does."

"Good to hear...though next time, do let me know when you plan on using explosives, if only so I'll know to expect a bang and won't have a heart attack."

"I think I can manage that."

"Excellent!" Zelda turned her attention back to Link, who immediately straightened his posture, as if expecting her to summon the executioner for the mere act of slouching a bit. It was a poor habit, naturally, and bad for one's back, but hardly worthy of the capital punishment. "Again, Link, thank you so much for looking out for him—I don't know what I'd do if he got himself hurt. If there is anything you need, you only have to ask."

"Er...I..."

Sheik hid a smile—Link was incredibly cute when flustered.

"You don't need to decide right away, of course," Zelda said, letting him off the hook. "I imagine I'll be seeing a lot more of you in the future, if you intend to continue helping Sheik with his hunts."

"We haven't quite decided that yet," Sheik interjected. "There are still some things we need to discuss."

"Ah, of course." Zelda's masked gaze landed on him once more. "And _we_ have something to discuss as well, actually. In private, if Link does not mind?"

"Not at all, ma'am," Link said, bowing for the third time. If Zelda had had any desire to pass unnoticed through her own party, Link was blowing her cover quite efficiently. "I'll wait here, Sheik."

"I'll be right back."

* * *

Link watched the retreating backs of Sheik and the princess, releasing the tension in his shoulders. He knew Sheik had only come to the party in order to speak with her. He'd even warned Link that she wanted to see him, but he'd never _truly_ expected that he, a lowly farmhand from a tiny, insignificant speck of a village, would ever get to not only meet the princess of Hyrule, but _speak_ to her. Only when the two of them had left the garden altogether and entered the palace, disappearing from view, did he let himself sigh, briefly removing his mask to rub the nervous sweat from his brow.

"You never quite know what to do when meeting royalty," a familiar voice behind said, and he spun around. If he hadn't recognised the man by his posture, Link certainly would have by his hair. It was a colour he'd never seen before, almost making him think it was dyed rather than natural. "Especially what to do with one's hands."

"Mi—Ascal," Link greeted him with a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Link," Ascal greeted back, smiling beneath his golden lion mask. "Likewise—though now that I see you were with the princess, I cannot help but wonder if I underestimated your influence when we met. Tell me, how does a farmer gain the friendship of royalty?"

Link shook his head, instantly relaxing a little now that he had another friendly face to relate to. "We're not friends—we just met, actually. The person I'm here with is, though."

"Ah, and who is this person of mystery, then? Could it be the young man with the less-than-subtle suit I saw leaving just now?" Ascal helped himself to a small bunch of grapes, eating them delicately.

"Just...a friend, really," Link said, unsure of how much he should reveal to the older man. Sheik would have disapproved of him telling Ascal anything whatsoever, but that seemed to be Sheik in a nutshell—cautious to the point of paranoia. It was justified, of course, having survived an assassination attempt, but still... Ascal was just a servant; how dangerous could he be? "His name is Sheik."

"Hm, can't say I've heard of him before," Ascal said. "He an important boffin or something? Ah, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. The very fact that he is here speaks volumes of how important he is, and if there is one thing I have learned in my long service to my lord, it is that the most important and powerful people usually prefer to remain...anonymous."

Link frowned. He supposed that was true. Zelda was powerful...but she was a princess, and surely _had_ remain a public figure, but... Well, Sheik wasn't really powerful or influential, but he'd likely approve of someone believing him to be just that. It was better than have his true identity revealed at a party where, as he had said, most attendees would like nothing more than to see his people wiped out. So he nodded, leaving it at that.

"And your master is attending the masquerade as well, Ascal?" Link asked, looking around. "I don't see him..."

"Oh, he is around here somewhere, I'm sure," Ascal said dismissively. "Probably got some crumpet up against the wall. A smart man, is my master, but subtle or graceful in his dealings with the opposite sex, he is not. Honestly, I'm not sure why he bothered to bring me here seeing as the first thing he did was to disappear. What use he has for a valet is beyond me, but...such is the life of a servant." He sighed dramatically, making Link chuckle. "Not to mention, of course, that I will have the _pleasure_ of hoisting his drunken arse into a carriage by the end of the night. Please, for your own sake, ensure your _friend_ does not drink too much wine—it is poison to one's intellect."

"I'll make sure he doesn't, thanks," Link said.

Ascal nodded. "Good, catch them early, is what I've always said. Now, I suppose I should go look for my young master. Until next time, Link."

He stalked off, weaving his way through the crowds expertly in the way only someone used to occasions like these could. Link wished he would stay. With Sheik gone, he felt utterly alone, and the idea of walking up to a group of nobles or other rich members of high society was a terrifying one. They'd recognise the way he spoke immediately, and laugh at him. And he couldn't speak to any of the servants either—they were too busy attending to the guests and treating _him_ like one of their betters, which was so utterly ridiculous he'd laugh hysterically if he wasn't surrounded by the kingdom's _finest_.

Finest, in that they held the highest positions and the most money, maybe...

...but in behaviour, they seemed anything but. The clock had just struck eleven, and already many of the guests were blind drunk from the ample wine that was flowing. Some had joined the one Link saw before in relieving themselves into the river, while others had commandeered conveniently located bushes and other parts of the gardens to empty their protesting stomachs so they could fill them with more wine. Others still, were pairing up and sneaking into shadowed corners, to engage in...well, what people did everywhere else. Back in Ordon, the young lads and lasses of the village had had the decency of sneaking into the woods and more out-of-the-way areas to do their business, however, unlike these nobs who were content if only their arses were on display, the sight of which made Link blush and look away...and then look back, with fascination.

He was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that back in Ordon...he wished he could have been in one of those couples who snuck away from the parties to have fun...but for that to have happened, he'd need speak to _him_ , and, and admit his feelings...and that was just not _on_. And now it was too late, anyway. Sheik...well, he wasn't the type to engage in such activities in semi-public, Link was sure, and they hadn't even kissed since their impromptu bath in the moat, or even discussed what had happened.

Goddesses, Link hoped Sheik hadn't changed his mind about the whole thing. The embarrassment would be too much, and he wasn't sure if he could take it. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the cat-masked Sheikah striding towards him.

"We're leaving." Sheik didn't pause as he whirled past, grabbing Link's arm at the same time and dragging him along.

"Already?" Link asked, wondering why he sounded so upset. "We barely just got here."

"I came here to report to the princess," Sheik said, rudely shoving aside a drunken noble who was playing with a lit torch in a way that would surely end with singed eyebrows before long. "I have done that, and I am quite done with dealing with these people." They were back inside the marble hall now, with the alcoves, on their way to the palace entrance.

"But—"

"You're more than welcome to stay, of course," Sheik interrupted, stopping abruptly, which nearly caused Link to crash into his back. "Though I daresay you'll find the nobs less than welcoming."

Link briefly considered asking if Zelda would continue to attend, but clearly the talk between her and Sheik was the source of the hunter's annoyance. Sheik's shoulders were tense, his fists clenched at his sides. He couldn't begin to imagine what could agitate the Sheikah like this, but he _did_ begin to wonder what would calm him down...and...well...Link had always considered himself a little selfish. And given where they were standing...

"Link, what are you—mmph!"

Now it was Sheik's turn to be dragged. Link took him by the shoulders and pulled him into the closest shadowy alcove, the same kind that was occupied by a multitude of couples (and in one case, a group of _three_ ) in the same hallway. His protest was silenced by Link's lips on his, and whatever struggle was left in him melted away as the Sheikah's arms locked themselves around the Ordonian's waist. Seconds later, his own lips were pressing back, their hands roaming each other's bodies as their masks knocked together.

Clearly, Link thought with a grin, Sheik wasn't above _this_.

A quiet giggle grew louder as its owner approached, accompanied by two sets of footsteps. Closer and closer...and there was a gasp. Link was unable to turn his to regard the intruder on account of Sheik's grip on his neck, but the hunter had a full view of them.

"What, never seen canoodling before?" Sheik asked with a scowl.

"This is a _scandal_!" the female voice said, while her male companion gave an appalled grunt. "Absolutely _disgusting_!"

Link felt his cheeks beginning to burn with shame and embarrassment, as he began to pull away. Perhaps this had been a bad idea—if someone figured out who they were, Sheik's reputation would surely plummet, and—

"So is what _I'm_ looking at," Sheik replied, his hold on Link tightening so the Ordonian couldn't pull away. "How old is he, fifty? Old enough to be your father, certainly. Now, I suggest you find somewhere else to fuck, because this spot's _taken_."

The woman gasped, but her companion didn't seem to want trouble, because he mumbled something unintelligible to her, and then their footsteps were going away, growing fainter and fainter. Link couldn't have been more surprised at Sheik's reaction, or at the wicked grin the hunter was giving him at the moment.

"Please excuse my language," he said, kissing Link and running his tongue across his bottom lip, making him gasp. "But nothing annoys me more than being interrupted while doing this." With one smooth move, he shoved away from the alcove wall, spun them around, and switched their positions. Now Link was the prey, and he soon found his throat being peppered with little kisses and nips, Sheik's previous anger replaced with a desire to explore every inch of exposed skin. Link was content to let himself _be_ explored, but a few minutes later (much to his lower body's protest) Sheik paused, his eyes meeting Link's behind their masks. "Link?"

"Yes?"

"Do you still want to become a hunter?"

"Really? _Now_ you ask—"

"Answer the question."

He paused to catch his breath, and nodded, ignoring the loud clack of their masks banging together. "Yes, I do."

Sheik smiled and kissed him again.

"Good."


	12. The Surprise Companion

The next three days passed by in a blur as they prepared to travel. After their little _diversion_ at the masquerade, they had returned to the Temple and begun making plans. The Studio was miles upon miles away, and it would take weeks for them to reach it on horseback, which was why they had to get underway as soon as possible, before the autumn rains began washing away the roads and flooding the crossings. He didn't much like how close they would be cutting it to the annual mountain storms either, but it was either that or wait until spring...and he highly doubted he (or Link, for that matter) would have the patience for it.

Something was gnawing at him, making him feel ill at ease. Of course, he knew _one_ of the reasons for this feeling, but there was something else to it as well...something about the city felt _off_. Wrong, somehow. Did it have something to do with the lycanthropes and skulker infestation? Was there a connection between the two? After almost a decade of not a single beast or monster setting foot within the walls, finding two separate species making use of Castle Town as a larder was unprecedented. Granted, it could also be a coincidence—the skulker infestation could have been developing for years—the lycanthropes must have been newcomers, or Sheik would have found them much sooner.

He shook his head. No, speculating like this would only lead to headaches and a short temper. For now, the city was safe. He'd seen to that, and while he was gone Eren and Nikal and his multitude of spies at every level of society would be keeping their eyes out for suspicious activity, with orders to send word to the Studio if something was amiss. He'd be too far away to do something about it immediately, of course, but he could send orders back with instructions on how to contain any eventual threat until he could make a hasty return.

"Is this enough?"

He looked up and regarded the pack Link was finishing up. It was filled to the brim with various foodstuffs made to last on the road. Dried meats were a big part of it, and while there would be no shortage of local villages in which they could stock up on the road, it would be a comfort to know they wouldn't starve. The pack looked a little light, though.

"Add some more," he told the Ordonian.

"Sheik, the two of us could survive the whole way on this," Link said, looking uncertainly at him. "Plus, it's going to be heavy as hell."

"Still, better safe than sorry," Sheik said dismissively. "Some villages along the way will not be inclined to sell their wares to us—we don't know which, so I would rather carry a little too much than too little, just in case we find ourselves sleeping on the road for a while."

Link might have protested further, but the edge in Sheik's tone was enough to stop him. Of course, Link hadn't considered the idea that, once again, Sheik's ethnicity would be a problem on the road the farther away they got from the major cities. He nodded slowly, and continued to stuff the pack with food, happy in the knowledge that, at least, he wouldn't have to carry it himself.

Sheik busied himself with cleaning their pistols and sharpening their blades. Their foray into the Castle Town sewers had put a severe dent in Sheik's armoury, and he would have to restock it as soon as they returned from the Studio (whenever that would be). From his office, he had retrieved three of his four remaining swords—a pair of short, curved steel swords meant to be wielded as a pair, along with a longer, silver blade in the same style as the shorter ones. Traditional Sheikah blades like these were becoming hard to come by, and Sheik needed to remind himself to have new ones forged at the Studio for his return.

Link's blades were as immaculate as the day they'd been forged, Sheik was sure. If there was one thing Link's father had taught him well, it was how to maintain his weapons. He refused, however, to touch the pistol Sheik had given him, forcing the Sheikah to clean and load it once more.

"You know, you will have to do this for yourself one day if you want to become a hunter," Sheik said, tapping the side of the pistol's barrel, satisfied to hear that nothing had been knocked loose by the explosion. "Impa has no patience for personal issues—you will have to come up with a better reason for not using powder weapons."

"I know," Link said, unable to hide the small grin that came to his face every time Sheik acknowledged that, yes, Link was to be a hunter. Or, rather, was to be a hunter as long as his aunt approved (which was a given, since Link had already proved his worth). It was cute, how excited the Ordonian got at the very idea of joining their ranks, even after the sewer incident. That was only a preview, however, of the unpleasantness he would have to face on a regular basis...but Sheik didn't want to crush Link's spirit so soon. "I just...I need a little time with them, you know?"

"You never did tell me why you dislike them so much," Sheik continued, picking up the next pistol and carefully cleaning its barrel. "If you were a bad shot I would have understood, but from what I've seen you're a natural." He waited for Link's answer, but when none came he turned his head to look at the Hylian. "Link?"

He seemed to have been in some sort of trance, but at Sheik's voice he snapped out of it, blinking. "Oh...er...well...it's not really something worth talking about," he said carefully. "I'll tell you someday. Just...not now."

 _Fair enough—I have my own secrets,_ Sheik thought as he nodded. "Very well, I shan't ask again."

"I don't mind you asking," Link said hurriedly, eyes widening as he mistook Sheik's answer. "It's just...it's an explanation that might take a while, and I'm not even sure where to start, so...just some time?"

Sheik smiled gently at him, nodding again. "Take as much of it as you need. We'll have plenty of other things to talk about on the road, I'm sure."

_We've no choice, really..._

There was a knock at the door, which Sheik recognised immediately. "Come in, Lor," he called. "We're both decent."

The tattooed prostitute had a grin on his face as he entered, carrying a tray laden with what passed as lunch at the Temple. There was enough fat to sustain a man for days in the stew alone, Sheik had no doubt. "I would have entered either way," he said, winking at Link, causing the Ordonian to blush. "It'd be a sight for the Goddesses, no doubt. I can only imagine what a lifetime of farming has done to sculpt that body of yours—"

"That's enough," Sheik interrupted him, rolling his eyes. "You're on break."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Lor said with another wink at the farmhand, who only blushed deeper. "Besides, Madame Rosa wants me to practice my flirting."

"I don't know _what_ that was, but it certainly wasn't flirting. Salivating is generally not considered a titillating sight." Sheik finished the last pistol and holstered it in the belt on the table.

"If only you knew, Sheik, if only you knew," Lor said in a teasing tone, placing the tray on the small piece of table top that wasn't occupied by weaponry. "Why, this one time I had this customer with an abnormally large tongue, and—"

"Lor...please don't finish that story," Link pleaded, his cheeks positively on fire by now.

"Why not?" Lor pouted. "Maybe you'd learn something from it."

"Learn something? Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, like how to bring a man to—"

"That's quite enough of that!" Sheik exclaimed, grabbing Lor by the collar of his ridiculous outfit and forcing him into one of the chairs by the table. He yanked the gun belt off the table top and quickly cleared room for all three of them. "Here," he said, shoving a spoon into Lor's hand. "Sit. Eat. Be quiet!"

Lor grinned and stuck his tongue out at Sheik before helping himself to some lunch, making appreciative noises that bordered on indecent. "Mmm, Penelope outdid herself this time...maybe she heard about the two of you leaving?"

"Doubt it," Sheik said, grabbing his own bowl and breaking off a piece of bread from the loaf on the tray. "There are only four people who know we're leaving the city today, not counting my spies, and three of them are sitting in this room."

"Who's the fourth?"

"The princess."

"She knows?" Link asked, eyes widening slightly. The poor boy had still not completely recovered from the shock of not only meeting the princess of Hyrule, but having a conversation with her as well. And the way she'd treated him...not like a commoner at all. It had been a little too much, Sheik suspected, but luckily the daze had been somewhat calmed by what they'd done in the alcove. Nothing...indecent, of course. Sheik knew better than to engage in _those_ activities in public view, but surely there was nothing wrong with a little kissing?

"She insists on being informed of my movements," Sheik said with a shrug. "I had no choice but to tell her."

"Oh...what did she say?"

"Not much, really. She's more than aware of the fact that I have to report to the Studio every now and then. She knows how to contact me in case there is an emergency, of course, but I doubt there will arise a situation that cannot be handled by her soldiers or the city watch."

"Good to know we won't be overrun by monsters while you're gone, then," Lor said, chuckling. "What would we do without our brave Sheikah, eh?"

"Wallow in despair?" Sheik suggested. "Weep at the pain my absence causes? Give up on life because you know it will never be complete without me in it?"

Link choked on his water, shaking with suppressed laughter while Lor appeared to give the idea some thought before shaking his head. "Honestly, considering the trouble you cause, I'd say your absence will come as a bit of a relief—a holiday, if you will."

"Fine, see if I bother coming back, then," Sheik muttered, pretend hurt written all over his face.

"Aw, you know I can't live without my Sheiky-weiky!"

Now it was Sheik's turn to choke, and the other two found it impossible not to laugh at the sheer _outrage_ his eyes conveyed at the ridiculous nickname. Lor howled, clutching his sides and slapping the table top, nearly tipping over in his chair. Link at least _tried_ to maintain some semblance of dignity, but he was still recovering from his previous bout of suppressed guffaws and could not stop a few high-pitched chuckles from escaping.

And so the night passed, with Sheik's dignity in ruins.

* * *

The next morning was grey and dull, with rain-packed clouds drifting lazily overhead, occasionally unleashing a torrent of downpour on the city below. Despite the lack of sun, the air was quite warm, though very clammy and humid. Simply walking three blocks had Sheik's neck soaked with sweat, and he found himself wishing he hadn't worn his long coat. It did wonders to protect him from the dust from the road and such (though mud was more likely to be a problem today), but it was severely lacking when it came to airflow and ventilation. Luckily, this would only be a problem until they reached the open plains, where wind (and lots of it) was an ever-present feature.

Sheik looked behind him, ensuring that Link was right on his heels with his share of the supply packs. The Ordonian didn't look happy about the weather either, or the weight he was carrying, but he was easily keeping up with him. The side streets they were taking were narrow and badly maintained, providing them with plenty of obstacles in the shape of uneven cobbles and rubbish heaps that reached their waists.

"Just a few more blocks, and we'll reach the gates," Sheik told him. "Come on."

Link nodded, gasping slightly when he nearly ran into a burly man carrying an equally heavy-looking pack of his own, grunting with annoyance. "Why are there so many people out today?" he asked once he regained his balance.

Sheik shook his head. "Royal procession. The princess is leaving the city today, and people want to see her."

One would only have to look towards the main streets to find them jam-packed with city dwellers hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive and rarely seen Princess of Hyrule as she passed them by. They'd be lucky to see her hand if she deigned to stick it out of the window to wave at them, if even that. The Royal Guard took their jobs seriously, and they would be marching in front, next to, and behind the carriage in ranks five men deep at the very least—leaving barely any room for manoeuvring the streets themselves without knocking a spectator or two down.

"Leaving?" Link asked. "Why? Where is she going?"

"Probably to her retreat in the mountains above Kakariko, or the mansion by Lake Hylia," Sheik replied. "Some of the royal residences are located there—ideal places to get some peace and quiet."

 _And to run away from your problems,_ he added.

"As for why," he continued, "I have no idea. Zelda does as she wishes—she is the princess, after all, and I wouldn't pretend to know the motivations for everything she does."

Link seemed satisfied with that, and re-shouldered his packs and pushed on, keeping up. They passed by street after street filled to the brim with eager citizens, some of whom were carrying flowers. In the distance, Sheik heard the trumpets that would continually play as the royal carriage slowly made its way through the streets, soaking up every bit of cheer along the way. Zelda had never cared much for that sort of adulation, especially when all she did to earn it was to sit in a carriage and look regal, but traditions were traditions (as her father, equally unhappy about the undeserved praise, had once said), and it seemed to cheer the people up somewhat.

 _If only they knew,_ Sheik thought as the stables came into view.

Tucked away two streets away from the city gates, the Rearing Depot was a good choice for keeping horses both long-term and short-term. Sheik maintained several mounts there, including his favourite: a black stallion he had named Maladict. Despite the name and his fearsome appearance, the horse was surprisingly gentle (though only with Sheik, refusing any other rider). He hadn't taken Maladict to Ordon when he went to visit Link for fear he would be off-putting to the villagers, and he thanked his lucky stars he hadn't after what happened.

The stable master, a rotund gentleman with the very distinctive name Bob (Sheik had no idea if it was short for Robert or if his parents had _actually_ named him Bob), was waiting by the entrance, nodding respectfully as they approached. "Master Sheik, right on time as usual." Behind him, a young stable hand was preparing several horses for travel, one of which was unmistakably Maladict judging by the size of him (not to mention the midnight-black coat).

"Punctuality is a virtue, Mister Bob," Sheik replied. "Are they ready?"

"Tinn's preparing them now," Bob replied, gesturing inside. "Should I put it on your bill?"

"As usual," Sheik agreed. "Anything I should know?"

"Not to my knowledge," Bob said, his head turning towards the main street as the cheering grew louder and louder, signalling the princess' arrival. "Tinn's been looking after Maladict, I'm sure he can tell if there's something important." His feet began to move as he spoke, pulling him towards the crowds. "No offence, gentlemen, but I have a princess to see. Best of luck on your trails, Master Sheik."

Sheik didn't bother to respond—Bob wasn't listening. Link was giving him a strange look, and he raised an eyebrow in return. "Hm?"

"I think that's the first person not to glare at you or treat you like dirt I've seen since I came to Castle Town," the Hylian said, frowning. "He actually seemed to like you."

"Why does that sound like an insult?" Sheik asked. "Anyway, I've been a customer of his for the past three years. I pay well and on time—it's in his interest to keep my business. Come on, let's pack up." As he spoke, the young stable hand was leading Maladict and another horse towards them, giving Sheik a brilliant smile as he approached. "Now Tinn, on the other hand," Sheik continued, "is happy to see me because I pay him extremely well to keep an eye on the people who enter and leave the city, reporting to Eren or Nikal whenever someone interesting is on the move."

"Good morning, Master Sheik," Tinn greeted, grinning widely. "Off on another adventure?"

Sheik nodded to the slightly older boy. "As usual, Tinn. How has Maladict been treating you?"

"Oh, he's a sweetheart once you're able to anticipate his biting and kicking, really," Tinn replied, not a hint of a lie on his face or in his voice. "It's like he does it out of habit."

"He's a bit grumpy, that's all," Sheik said, reaching out to stroke Maladict's muzzle, smiling when the animal seemed to relax and snort. "Aren't you, boy?"

"I'll never understand how he does it," Tinn said, glancing at Link. "And I assume you're the second rider?"

"I am—name's Link."

"Nice to meetcha, Link. This here is Epona. Unlike Maladict, she's _actually_ a sweetheart, as long as you keep her fed properly." Tinn tugged on the second horse's reins. She was a beautiful mare, with a light brown coat, dark eyes and a white mane. Link carefully reached out and patted her neck, which she accepted with no protest. "What do you think?" Tinn asked.

"She's beautiful," Link said, smiling widely when she bumped her muzzle into his chest in a friendly gesture.

"She is, isn't she?" Tinn was smiling as well, more serenely than before. "Mild-tempered, too, unless you give her a reason to be unhappy with you."

"That's why I chose her for you, Link," Sheik added, already in the process of attaching his packs and supplies to Maladict's saddle. "You said you hadn't ridden very much apart from—"

"—old work animals, yeah," Link said, remembering the conversation they'd had a few days before. "You sure she will take me?"

"I'm certain she will." Sheik finished with his packs and looked at his feet, finding another two. "Tinn, the third?"

"Mera," Tinn said, heading back to fetch the third horse he'd been preparing, a white mare, slightly larger than Epona, with a silver mane. "Oldest of the three, but far from ready for the knackers. You didn't specify the rider's skill, but I assumed they would have about your level of experience."

"That will do fine, yes," Sheik said, ignoring the puzzled look he was receiving from Link. He pulled a small leather pouch from the inner pocket of his coat, tossing it to Tinn. "Excellent work, as usual. You know where to go if something interesting happens?"

"Naturally," Tinn said, back to grinning like a maniac. "I'll be sure to keep an extra watchful eye out while you're gone, boss."

"Good man. Till next time."

As they led the three horses away, Link looked just about ready to burst. Only when they rounded a corner did he turn on Sheik, giving him a glare. "You didn't say a third person was joining us," he said accusingly. "Who is it? Lor?"

"Lor's staying here while we're gone," Sheik said, glancing towards the main street. Judging by the noise, the royal carriage was trundling by as they spoke. He thought he could see the golden top of it bobbing above the heads of the spectators, the occupant apparently giving them the customary waves. The trumpets began to play once more, probably deafening the people in the first row. "There's the princess," he muttered.

"So who's coming with us?" Link asked, refusing to let the matter drop. It was endearing, in a way, if the annoyance was a sign of jealousy. Perhaps he'd hoped to have Sheik to himself the entire way. Sheik was genuinely sorry to disappoint him, but he hadn't been given much of a choice in the matter.

"Have some patience, and you might find out."

As if on cue, a cloaked and hooded person emerged from the nearest alley and hurried towards them, a pack slung over their shoulder. They came to a stop in front of Sheik, panting slightly. "Sorry I'm late," she said, her voice oddly familiar to Link. "They wouldn't let me leave until the decoy was well away."

"That's fine," Sheik said, nodding. "Got everything you need?"

"Right here."

"Good," he said, handing her the reins of the white horse. "This is Mera—you will take care of her for the duration of our journey."

"Hello, Mera," the newcomer said, patting her mount's neck affectionately. "Beautiful girl..."

Link cleared his throat loudly, having reached the end of his patience. "Sheik?" he asked pointedly, glaring at him.

"Right," Sheik said, nodding. "Link, you remember the princess?"

As he spoke, the newcomer took off her hood, revealing the face concealed by an eagle mask several nights before. The face that belonged to the most powerful person in all of Hyrule. Princess Zelda smiled, tugging slightly nervously at one of the auburn locks of hair by her hear, giving Link an apologetic look. "Good morning, Link of Ordon. I apologise for the confusion and delay. I will be accompanying you to the Studio."

"But...the carriage..." Link trailed off, embarrassed at himself. He should have recognised her voice right away.

"A decoy," the princess said, still smiling. Her eyes were a pale blue, something Link hadn't been able to see at the masquerade. Beneath her cloak, she was wearing a long coat made for travel, just like theirs, and sensible riding boots. At a glance, there was nothing about her that seemed particularly regal...which was probably the point. "A double, trained to assume my position in times of danger...or, in this case, when I decide to take a small leave of absence."

"I see..."

"Sorry for springing the surprise on you, Link, but this needed to remain secret, and the fewer people who know about it the better," Sheik said, glancing around them. "Now, if you don't mind, perhaps we can save the pleasantries for later, when we're on the road? I'd rather not bring the wrath of the Royal Guard down on my head for getting you kidnapped before we've even left Castle Town."

"Now there's an interesting bit of banditry, with a princess for a prize," Zelda said with a grin, climbing into Mera's saddle with the ease of a practiced rider. "Lead the way, Master Sheikah."

* * *

Lor took his time on his way back to the Temple, humming quietly. He didn't know the words, only the melody. Perhaps the tune didn't have any words at all, just that one melody, repeating over and over. It's how he remembered it, though he did not know from where. He sometimes dreamt of someone humming it in his ear, distant but familiar. It was comforting, in a way, even if he didn't know who it was. He had theories, of course, but that usually meant dredging up old memories that were best left alone. There was no real point in speculating about it—whoever had sung it to him in the past was long gone, leaving only the melody as a keepsake, precious and warming.

He had half the day off. Fridays were notoriously slow in the mornings, a stark contrast to the following evening. He'd tried to see the royal procession, but he'd arrived late and only caught the back end of it. Then he'd considered finding Link and Sheik, to see them off properly, but he had no idea where they'd gone after leaving the Temple...and even if he had, he doubted his presence would have been welcome. Knowing Sheik, the two had already taken a break to go off for a snog by the road. Or perhaps he was trying to be a gentleman, trying to ease Link into the swing of things.

He chuckled. Watching the two of them was an exercise in frustration and intrigue, wondering when either of them would snap under the pressure and simply tear the clothes off the other one and ravish them into oblivion. It would probably be Sheik. The boy had no patience, especially when it had been a while since...well, _that_. Lor could attest to that impatience.

As he entered the Shades, he instinctively clutched his bag of purchases closely. It wasn't often he went to the market, but he'd heard of a merchant arriving from the south with a (relatively) fresh batch of strange and exotic fruits and other foodstuff, and wanted to see what she brought. It had been ages since he'd had oranges, and had bought three. The rest of the spending money he'd allowed himself that day had been spent on useless trinkets and a new shirt.

He usually didn't spend so much money at a time (half his pay for the last two weeks), but he was feeling strangely wistful today. Well, wistful was perhaps the wrong word to use. He was lonely. That was all there was to it. Lonely, and unhappy that Link and Sheik, a pair of people he'd gotten very used to have around all the time, would be gone for such a long time. Months, at the very least, or so Sheik had claimed. That was a long time without friends...or, friends who also didn't work at the Temple, at least.

He sighed. What a fool he was being. He'd gotten attached, which was one of the biggest mistakes one could make in his line of work. One of the first things he'd been told when starting at the Temple, by Madame Rosa herself, was not to form attachments to the regular faces.

"Loneliness becomes ten times worse when they inevitably stop coming," she said. "And above all, don't fall in love. It will only end in heartbreak."

Well, he'd failed in both matters. As had Madame Rosa, undoubtedly, along with every other whore at the Temple, and any other brothel in the city!

He paused, sighing again. Again, like with the melody, there was no point in dwelling on it. As far as lives went, his was far from the worst. He should consider himself lucky, really. Damn lucky. He heard stories about the southern houses of negotiable pleasure, how the...the slaves were treated there. Like animals. Objects. At least here, at the Temple, he was an actual employee. Free to leave at any time. Not that it would amount to much given his limited skillset, but...he had the _option_. That was the important bit.

Wasn't it?

Sheik would disagree, no doubt. As would Link. But they didn't understand. They had never been in Lor's position. No matter what happened to them, they had skills and jobs to fall back on. What did Lor have? An ugly tattoo on his cheek from his days on the market (forever marking him as a former slave) and the ability to take any man to heaven and back in a reasonable amount of time. Not exactly marketable assets.

He paused once more, shaking his head and resisting the urge to slam his forehead into the nearest brick wall. This was pathetic. What good would moping about it do? It only served to make him feel worse about himself, and that was the last thing he needed. No, he had to push on through. Sooner or later, he would see a chance to have (and be) something better, and he would take it.

Plastering a big (albeit forced) smile on his face, he continued on his way. The smile only grew when the Temple came into view, a stark contrast to how his stomach felt, walking into the outdoors serving area in the yard. He greeted the girls and went inside, surprised to find the place unusually full. It seemed the princess' procession through the streets had woken the population's appetite. Not even two in the afternoon, and the ground floor was packed, the bar queue seemingly endless. From her place by the door, Madame Rosa perked up when she saw him, hurrying over.

"There you are," she said, taking him by the shoulder and steering him towards the stairs. "Hurry up and get dressed—you have clients waiting."

"Who?" Lor asked, giving the large room a cursory glance.

"Some upstart noble, I think. Had a few guards with him. First time in the Shades, judging by the way he keeps flinching. Make sure he comes back."

Lor nodded. "Anything special? The guards, too?"

"He only paid for himself—tell him it's extra for the muscle."

"Okay—send him up in ten minutes."

"Those ten minutes are coming out of your pay!" He only made it up two steps before Rosa spoke again, giving him a serious look. "And for Goddesses' sake, boy, don't look like you're about to weep unless they ask for it! He hasn't come here for a crying virgin!"

Lor didn't dignify that with an answer, quickly heading for his room. He stowed away his purchases, made short work of his clothes and had a quick wash with lukewarm water from the basin before changing into the abominable skirt and revealing shirt. He didn't have time to do much with his hair, so he simply let it loose, hoping the noble didn't mind long-haired boys. It even served to hide the tattoo, somewhat. Or perhaps the noble would like the idea of having a slave...

Then there was a knock at his door, and he steeled himself with a deep breath. "Come in," he said, dropping his voice to a seductive, husky one he knew drove some men absolutely wild. The door opened. "How may I serve you today, master?" he asked as the noble filed in along with his guards.

The guards were tough-looking men, with merciless eyes and undoubtedly armed to the teeth beneath their nondescript clothes. The noble seemed pleasant enough, not young but not old either, his slate-coloured hair drawn back in a ponytail. He smiled at Lor's submissive greeting, hands resting on his hips as he made a show of considering what he wanted. Anticipating what it was, Lor dropped to his knees and slowly inched forward, wondering if the noble had had any sort of experience with this before, or if he was a first timer. He hoped for the latter—they usually weren't hard to please...though, if the guards were allowed to watch...

...and why weren't they closing the door?

"Well, isn't this is a pleasant sight to be greeted by? I could get used to this," the noble said, walking forward until he was standing directly above Lor, smiling down at him.

"Master?" Lor asked, leaning forward, eyeing the man's groin pointedly, silently asking permission to begin doing his job.

A hand landed on his head, fingers rubbing at his scalp gently. "Not yet, my pet," the noble said gently. "There will be plenty of time for that later. First...I would like you to answer some questions."

"What about, master?" Lor had to remind himself not to grit his teeth at his own words. His mas—the noble wouldn't like that.

"Your friends, the Sheikah and the boy from Ordon," the noble said, smiling wider when Lor looked up at him with surprise. "I have some business with them, and I would very much like to know where they are."

"I...I don't know what you're—"

The smack was loud, and Lor's cheek immediately began to sting as his head was jerked to the right, shock and fear immediately filling him as memories of the night with the Jackal flashed before his mind's eye.

"That's not what I want to hear," the noble said, his tone having lost its pleasantness. His smile was gone, as well. "I'm going to ask again, and this time the punishment won't be a mere slap. Where are the Sheikah and the boy from Ordon?"

For a brief, shameful moment, Lor considered telling the noble exactly where Link and Sheik were and where they intended to go...but he immediately reined himself in. A worthless whore he might be, but a coward he was not! This man was clearly bad news, and nothing good could come of him knowing where his friends were!

He steeled himself and glared up at the noble, wondering how long he'd survive if he tried to fight back. Not very long, probably.

"I don't know," he said.

True to his word, the noble didn't punish him with a slap this time. He saw stars as the fist crashed into his jaw, knocking him to the floor as blood filled his mouth.

"Hmph, I'll suffer many humiliations before I am thwarted by a rent boy," the noble said above him, turning to his guards. "Take him to the usual place. I will clear things with the Madame and meet you there. Try to be subtle, yes?"

Something struck Lor's neck, and the world went dark...


	13. The Interrogation

The first few days of their journey was an awkward affair. Link had no idea how to act around the princess, especially since they spent every waking hour together. They stayed at various inns along the back roads at night, trying to keep their journey discreet and out of sight, giving him a blessed reprieve since it would be just _improper_ for Zelda to sleep in the same room as them (Sheik's insistence), but the days trickled by, slow as snails, with him being painfully aware of how ungraceful he was in both speech and manner. By the morning of the third day, he was beginning to regret wanting to be a hunter.

Sheik, on the other hand, was all _too_ aware of how to act around royalty. That wasn't an issue at all, even if the covert nature of their travels made it difficult to observe the proper respect and modes of address. No, Sheik was more distressed by how easily he fell into his old role as the princess' guardian...which, technically, he supposed he was for the duration of their trip to the Studio, but still... Zelda had assured him that it would not be necessary to assume the role, even actively discouraged him with a pointed glance from time to time, but the urge was just...there.

His annoyance with her mere presence on top of it didn't help at all, of course. He'd been looking forward to spending time with Link, just the two of them...it would give them time to figure some things out.

Staying at the Temple hadn't afforded them the much-needed privacy, what with the noisy neighbours and Lor barging in whenever he had time off, apparently hoping to catch the pair of them in a compromising position. If Sheik hadn't known better, he'd wonder if the tattooed boy was jealous, with how many times he had _coincidentally_ marched through the door when Link and Sheik had been...well, kissing. He had vaguely considered telling Lor to bugger off, but after the incident with the Jackal...

And now, Zelda was there. All. The. Time. Killing every moment they had to themselves. It was like she was doing it on purpose...

Not even staying at the inns helped, seeing as the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. Being thrown out of an inn for sodomy was one thing, but for the incident to accidentally implicate Zelda because of her mere presence...that was not something they needed on this very secretive journey.

 _If only she'd made it an official royal visit, she could have brought her whole army for protection instead of relying on me,_ he thought, ducking under a rain-laden branch that hung low across the road. Behind him, he heard Link give a grunt as he failed to do so, too busy fidgeting awkwardly to see the branch. He would have laughed, but his mood was a little too foul to properly enjoy the moment. Not even the sour look he received from the Ordonian when he glanced back helped.

Zelda seemed blissfully unaware of the tension she was causing. Whether it was because she enjoyed torturing her little brother or because she too was feeling the unpleasant atmosphere, and chose to simply power through it with the stiff upper lip that was so characteristic of her family whenever they faced adversity (or even slight discomfort). Her father had been the _master_ of it. The princess was riding at the head of their group, taking advantage of not being surrounded by a cluster of guards every waking moment to breathe freely and enjoy her space.

Thankfully, Sheik's despair ended an hour or so later, when the tension was broken by a startled herd of deer that darted across the dirt road...directly in front of Mera. The beautiful, white horse was usually calm and collected, but the sudden appearance of a small bundle of flailing legs and contained chaos that was, in essence, a deer coming within inches of her alarmed her considerably. She whinnied loudly and reared up, tossing the surprised princess out of her saddle...and straight into the muddy ditch that ran alongside the road.

Sheik's heart gave a jump as he scrambled off Maladict's back, worried that she'd gotten hurt...until he heard the swearing.

"Bloody miserable...fucking...fuck!"

Coupled with the extremely unladylike words streaming from her mouth, her face appeared over the edge of the ditch, absolutely covered in muck. Her eyes flashed with anger and glared at Mera, who did not even have the decency to lower her head in shame, looking calmly down at her rider with a snort that could easily have been one of amusement.

There was just something about it that tickled Sheik's humour, and within moments he was howling with laughter, clutching his sides. This only served to annoy her more, and her vain attempts at climbing out of the ditch grew in intensity, but the sides of it were just a _little_ too slippery to get a good grip, and one particularly forceful attempt only had her flop back into it. Her boots made a brief appearance in the performance as she took another tumble. Sheik was worried about running out of air at this point, leaning on Maladict lest he too flop into the mud.

"Don't just stand there and laugh, you great git! Help me out of here!"

The indignant tone, so unlike her usual dignified and controlled demeanour, was too much. Even Link, who had been too awed to speak to her properly for the past few days, was laughing now. He, however, was making an earnest attempt at assisting her...though he was taking his sweet time to reach the ditch, pausing every few steps to wheeze, his legs shaking with effort. He soon reached her, however, and with one mighty heave pulled her back onto the road, making a token effort to brush the mud off her clothes...though this only served to rub it in further, not to mention staining his own clothes.

In one fell swoop, everything that was regal about Zelda had been wiped away, leaving one sodden, filthy, annoyed girl who was blushing with embarrassment, trying to maintain _some_ dignity in the face of her two companions...who were still laughing.

"It's not funny, you arseholes!" she shouted, crossing her arms and turning away.

"I beg...beg to differ!" Sheik gasped, his vision blurry with tears of mirth.

Growling, Zelda lashed out. Link was her first victim, and she left him with muddy handprints all over the front of his coat and and his face. At first he looked shocked at the childish retaliation, but when she gave him a grin and aimed a pointed look in Sheik's direction, his face grew impish. Sheik noticed too late that the two were advancing on him as a unit, and he held his hands up while shaking his head.

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, I'll ki— _gah_!"

His back hit the ground, and the princess and the farmhand both landed on top of him, ensuring that plenty of filthy water and mud ran down his neck and under his shirt, to his grief. Link and Zelda, meanwhile, were laughing their arses off, exchanging congratulatory smiles and nudges of victory.

"Well done," Sheik said, glaring up at them. "Now we're _all_ wet and covered with mud. Just three idiots, sprawled in the middle of the road. I hope you're happy with yourselves." He tried to sit up and shake them off, but Zelda remained where she was, sitting on his chest.

"I certainly am," she said haughtily. "Admit defeat, and we'll let you up."

"I'll do no such thing!"

"Come on, Sheik, take it like a man," Link supplied, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "We got you, fair and square."

 _Where the hell did his shyness go?_ Sheik wondered, seeing the newfound camaraderie between the Ordonian and the princess for what it was: a bloody conspiracy to give him grey hairs before he was even twenty! Where was the honour in ganging up on an unsuspecting victim? "Fine," he said with a huff. "I am vanquished! Now get the hell off me before I freeze to death!"

"One moment," Zelda said before slowly extending a finger to delicately place a dot of mud on the tip of his nose, like a painter who was putting the finishing touch on their masterpiece, which would last through the ages. "There we go."

If looks could kill, Link and Zelda would have been erased from existence. Sheik grumbled as he climbed into Maladict's saddle, trying to ignore the accusatory glance he received from the stallion, as if _he_ too was weighing in on the stupidity he'd just seen the three engage in. Why had he even agreed to travel in this manner? Right now, he could have been in his comfortable office, resting in front of a roaring fireplace and letting time pass. But _no_ , he was on a miserable back road in the arse end of Hyrule, wet and dirty...and judging from the excited chatter he heard behind him, certainly about to become the victim of another prank.

...though...on the other hand...the previous awkwardness was gone. It seemed the muddy encounter had erased (or at the very least obscured) the social barrier between Link and Zelda. They were talking and laughing, recalling Sheik's face when they'd tackled him to the ground. It was...nice, in a way, even if their uniting factor had been _his_ misery.

But he would have his revenge. Somehow, one day, when they least expected it, he would strike. He would show no mercy, give no quarter. It would make the pranks he'd pulled on Zelda back when they were children look utterly pathetic!

Already laying plans, he looked to his companions. They had a _long_ way to go.

 _Oh yes...prepare yourselves, my lovelies,_ he thought. _My vengeance shall be swift and devastating..._

* * *

Lor woke up from his nap, if one could call passing out while being strangled that, and choked back a sob when he remembered where he was.

The room smelled of blood, sweat, and vomit. The nauseating scents clung to the inside of his nostrils, refusing to let go. Every breath brought another wave of revolting odours, nearly making him retch and contribute even more to the foul atmosphere. He shivered in the cold, dusty air, naked skin wracked by the ever-present draft which the small patch of straw he was lying on did absolutely nothing to insulate him against.

He wanted to curl up, try to preserve heat that way, but every movement he made, no matter how small, made the chain of his shackled ankle rattle loudly. That would draw the guards, and when they saw that he was awake instead of feigning sleep, they would...do _things_ to him again. His body ached enough, an unrelenting burning sensation in his backside reminding him of how the guards preferred to blow off steam when watching him.

His jaw ached, and his probing tongue found two holes where there should have been teeth. A third had been knocked loose, but had not yet fallen out. Blood continued to fill his mouth whenever he probed a too much, but he felt a compulsion to continue doing so anyway.

Breathing was difficult and painful. Every intake stung in his side, undoubtedly a result of cracked or broken ribs. He didn't dare imagine what his face looked like, swollen with bruises that made the one left by the Jackal look like child's play. One eye was practically glued shut with blood from a cut in the brow. He couldn't open his mouth without gasping with pain as his lips split in a dozen places.

His right ankle was a damn mess, swollen and blue. If it wasn't broken, then it was certainly massively sprained...he hadn't heard a crack when the guard had stomped on it, but then he'd been temporarily deafened by another guard's firm grip on his head at the time...

He heard talking outside the door, his guards of the day chatting amicably about everything and nothing, whiling away the hours until their master returned for another _session_ , as they called them. They kept asking the same questions, but found new and horrible ways to get him to answer them. So far, they'd failed. Lor wasn't sure how much longer he could resist, if things continued like this.

How long had he been in here, now? There were no windows in the small, draft-filled room. His only way to tell that time had passed were the guard changes, but since he kept passing out he had no idea how _many_ changes had occurred in the meantime. Days? Certainly...but how many? Surely not a week already? He had absolutely no way to keep count—meal times were kept irregular and rare, just another way to inflict pain and suffering...

What had he done to deserve this? He knew he was from a model citizen...or even person...but he'd _tried_ to do good when he could, be a friend to Sheik...and now...

His eyes grew wet, and he blinked away the tears before they could fall, ignoring the sting of tight skin being pulled at. He'd survived this long, he could survive even longer. Sheik always spoke of the intense training he'd undergone as a child, and the things he'd be expected to make it through. Compared to _that_ , this was a walk in the park. The bastard noble and his henchmen would have to come up with something _much_ worse than what they'd tried until now to get him to talk.

The screech of chairs outside the doors warned him of the guards standing up, and he quickly closed his eyes as the lock rattled. The room grew even colder when the door was yanked open, making him shiver. They hadn't even given him a blanket...

"He awake?" one guard asked, already fiddling with his belt.

"Don't know, don't care. Just hurry, will you?" the other said, standing in the doorway. "You're right fucked in the head, mate, you know that?"

"You don't know what ye're missing," the first guard said, kneeling by Lor and stroking his thigh gently, almost like a lover rather than...than... "Wake up, boy...got work for you. Do it right, and I might even let _you_ have a bit o' fun..."

Lor considered begging them to stop, wondering if he could appeal to their sympathy...but he abandoned that idea as soon as he opened his one eye that wasn't glued shut. The hungry look on the guard's face and the way his eyes roamed Lor's naked and bruised body offered no room for empathy...only desire. "Please..." he croaked anyway, betrayed by his own mouth. "Don't...no more..."

The guard chuckled, his hand resting on Lor's thigh. "No, no, that's not right...in fact, your mouth should be busy with something else..." He fiddled with his belt again, preparing to—

"Marv, put your cock away!" the second guard hissed suddenly as a door opened and closed in the distance, echoing through the building they were in, whatever it was. "The boss is coming!"

"Shit," the first muttered, giving Lor a dissatisfied look. "I'll be back, boy," he warned. "And I'll knock the last teeth out of your head if you don't do as I say then!"

Lor waited until the door had been closed and locked again before releasing his relieved sigh. Their boss had arrived, which was far from a good thing, but at least he wouldn't be assaulted again...for a while... He'd suffered beatings before—many, in fact. He could take those, easily, but the violations...

A muffled conversation took place outside the door, and Lor easily recognised the voice of the slate-haired man who'd abducted him from the Temple. He sounded cheerful, as usual. He always did, even when Lor refused to give him the information he wanted. It was like he treated it all like a big game, and that was the most unsettling thing about him, and Lor didn't dare to imagine what the man hid under that cheery demeanour.

Pure evil...

The door opened, and the three of them strode inside. The slate-haired man sniffed at the air, and made a disgusted noise. "I would have talked just to get out of this room," he said with a chuckle. "How do you stand it, I wonder? Get him up."

Lor was unable to suppress a whimper of pain as he was hauled from the floor and thrust into an uncomfortable, wooden chair. His arms were wrenched behind the back and shackled together, his ankles fastened to the legs. It was impossible to move, and exposed him completely. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, hoping for what felt like the millionth time that it was all a bad dream, that he was actually sleeping in his semi-comfortable bed back at the temple...but another breath, with the accompanying pain in his side, confirmed that he was, unfortunately, truly experiencing this.

"Look at your betters, boy!" Marv growled, yanking on Lor's hair, forcing him to look up at the slate-haired man, and the unsettling smile on his lips.

"Good afternoon, Lorasi," the man said, using the _one_ piece of information he'd been able to force out of him for all it was worth, his tone friendly and sweet, as if he _hadn't_ ordered the beatings, _hadn't_ allowed his men to do _things_ to get Lor to talk. "Are we feeling more cooperative today? Will you finally tell me everything I need to know, so I can let you go?"

Lor stared up at him, wincing as Marv pulled even harder at his hair, so hard it felt like the scalp would give way at any moment. "I don't...don't know what you're...talking about," he forced out, his voice practically gone from the screaming. It was the same answer he'd given from the moment he'd met the slate-haired man, and it wasn't about to change. He affected his most vulnerable and pathetic expression, doubting it would have any effect but refusing to deviate from the script. He didn't know what the slate-haired man wanted with Sheik and Link, but Lor wasn't about to make it easy for him. "Please...just let me go..."

The slate-haired man clicked his tongue, looking bored. "Your acting skills may yield more than the usual pocket change your kind earns at that little whorehouse of yours, my boy, but here they are sorely lacking. I've seen you, you know, with the two of them. It's made me wonder: what exactly are you to them? A pretty little distraction on their off-hours, when they aren't busy hunting beasts? A handsome little number to share their bed when things get dull? How much have they paid you, to earn this sort of loyalty? A king's ransom, I am sure."

"Not...their whore..." Lor gasped, wishing dearly that Marv would let go of his hair before he did permanent damage. "Friends..."

The slate-haired man paused, and then began to laugh. Marv and the other guard joined in shortly after, in the way cronies do when something's gone way over their heads but they're still laughing because that's what the master is doing. "Friends?" the man said, wrinkling his nose at the word. "Is this," he said, gesturing to the bloody mess that was Lor, "the sum of a friendship? Don't try to fool yourself, boy. You are nothing more than a background character in their lives. Tell me, do they include you in their important conversations? Did they see fit to ensure you were protected when they abandoned you? No, and here we are...all because you won't stop protecting two people who couldn't give any less of a _shit_ about you!"

"Shut up!"

The slate-haired man was faster than anything Lor had ever seen. The palm of his hand connected with Lor's cheek, the rings on his hand cutting deep gouges in the sensitive skin. "I don't really appreciate it when whores talk back," he said, dabbing gently at the bloody rings with a handkerchief. "I'd cut out your tongue if I didn't have an urgent need for it." He sighed, giving Lor a calculating look, taking in the bruised and bloody appearance of his captive. "Look, I don't really enjoy causing pain in this manner. It's crude and barbarous, but also very effective. This could all have been avoided if you'd just immediately told me where they are. This childish resistance is only prolonging your suffering..." He stroked Lor's other cheek now, tracing the tattoo with his index finger. "Just tell me...and this will be over. We'll let you go, and you can return to your...home."

"N-No..." Lor muttered.

The man's eyes grew darker, but he continued the gentle touch, careful not to touch the blue-black bruises that marred Lor's skin. "Are you sure? I might be tempted to sweeten the deal. Five thousand rupees, yours to keep." He held up a pouch that clinked with gems inside. It was more money than Lor had ever seen or could possibly hope to ever possess; enough to possibly cut back his hours at the Temple...enough to possibly get some sort of education or training for something other than...

"What do you say, Lorasi?" the man asked, shaking the pouch. "Tell what I want to know, and within the hour you'll be back home, counting your newfound fortune. The two of them will never know what happened, of that I can assure you. You will never see me or my men again. No guilt, no fuss, no muss."

He was half-delirious from thirst, hunger, and pain—could barely think straight. It was a tempting offer. The knowledge that he would be staying here until he either gave in or was beaten to death weighed heavily on his moral compass. It would be so easy, to just tell them. Sheik was tough—he could easily fight them off, couldn't he? He'd hunted beasts far worse than the slate-haired man and his mindless goons—it might even be a refreshing break, fighting something with only two legs for once...

But how would Sheik know that they were being hunted? The slate-haired man could easily ride them down at night, reduce him and Link to bloody stains on the road and...

No, he was their friend. No amount of money in the world could ever be worth betraying them...though the questions from the slate-haired man had stung. "No thanks," he said, trying to turn his head away, but Marv's hold kept him immobilised.

"That...is disappointing, Lorasi," the man said with a sigh, putting the pouch away. "I'd hoped you'd regain some semblance of common sense in your brief stay here...but it seems it won't be so brief after all. Now I'll have to use my special tools on you. You know, I'm certain the beatings and the attention of my men have been awful so far, but believe you me when I say that the pain I can inflict with my little devices and such will be a thousand times worse. You'll be _begging_ me to kill you long before I am even remotely done. Some of them aren't even that sophisticated—pliers, for example, can be put to a million uses. I find that removing a person's fingernails can loosen their tongue remarkably well."

His stomach plunged, but Lor had committed to this course. He gave the man his most level stare. "Go ahead..."

"Hm, you're brave, I will give you that," the man said, nodding slowly. "Very well. I gave you every chance to avoid this along the way, but since you're so keen on your own destruction..." He fetched a briefcase from outside the room and opened it gingerly. "Ah, there we are...so, shall we start with your toes or your fingers?"

"Boss!"

A third guard appeared in the doorway, out of breath. "The master wants to see you right away! There's been an emergency!"

So...the man had a master of his own. Marv finally let go of his hair, and Lor let his head hang low, listening as the man groaned with annoyance.

"Really? Now? He has no sense of timing, does he? Fine, I suppose I shouldn't keep him waiting. Gentlemen, Lorasi here will be in your care until I return."

"Got it, boss," Marv said, hesitating slightly. "Er...do you mind if...if we...?"

"He's a whore," the man said, closing his briefcase and putting on a delicate pair of gloves, giving Lor a disinterested glance. "I'm certain he'll be happy to put his skills to use. As long as he's able to talk, I don't care what you do with him."

"Thanks, boss."

"I will see you soon, Lorasi. Have fun in the meantime."

And then he was gone. The door slammed shut, and Marv was left alone with Lor, chuckling. "Remember what I said?" he asked Lor as he untied him from the chair and forced him down on his knees. "Better do a good job, or you can wave goodbye to those pearly whites of yours..."

Luckily, the man didn't last long. It was a situation Lor had found himself in a thousand times, and he if he closed his eyes he could at least imagine that he was back at the Temple, instead of in a dark, freezing, stinking dungeon. Marv's grip on his head slackened, and Lor twisted his neck and spat. There were some limits to what he was willing to do, even now. Marv grunted with displeasure, at the act, and slugged him in his temple. Face-down in the straw and the man's essence, Lor forced back another sob, wishing he'd never returned to the Temple after Sheik and Link left. Anything would have been better than this...

"Hey, you!" The other guard's shout was muffled by the door, and something slammed into it.

Marv stuffed himself back into his trousers and went for the door, leaving Lor lying where he'd been knocked down. "Ralph? The hell are you doin' out there?" he demanded, yanking the door open. "What're you—hakh!" With a gurgle, Marv fell forward, through the open doorway, leg's twitching.

"Hurry," someone whispered, and a pair of shadows entered the dimly lit dungeon, crouching by Lor's side. One of them gently touched his shoulder. "Lorasi? Can you hear me?"

His vision was swimming from Marv's fist, making it impossible to make out the newcomers' faces. They seemed friendly, but for all he knew they could be a trick conjured from the slate-haired man's twisted imagination. "I...hear you," he forced out, wishing he could raise his head from the filthy straw beneath. "Who...are you?"

The closest newcomer leaned down, coming into focus. A young girl, barely ten, if even that. She gave him a concerned look, frowning at her companion. "My name is Nikal, and this is Eren. We're here to get you out."

"Oh...good..."

"He's completely out of it," Eren muttered beside him. "Lorasi, can you walk? We can't stay here; they might come back any second."

"My ankle," Lor muttered, pointing at the swollen mess. "Don't know if I can..."

"Shit," Nikal muttered. "Right, I'll have to get some help. Eren, stay here and see if you can him dressed. I'll be right back."

"Okay, but hurry!"

Marv's last hit had been harder than usual, and Lor wasn't sure if he was dying or not...but he was certainly drifting in and out of consciousness. He felt rough clothes being tugged onto his body by Eren, and tried to be of some assistance but found it difficult to make a single movement. Eren grunted with annoyance, but didn't offer any insults. That would have been a low point...if it wasn't bad enough getting dressed by a child. Everything went black...and then he was being lifted into the air by a pair of strong arms and carried out of the room, over the dead body of Marv, whose throat had been cut.

"Thanks for the help, Tinn," Nikal's voice, distant and murky, said. "We didn't know it was this bad."

"Any time," the one carrying Lor (Tinn, presumably) replied. "Where to?"

Lor didn't hear where they were going, passing out once more...and he would not wake again for hours.

* * *

Ascal watched the strange little procession from a distance, smiling to himself. His hunch had been correct. The little street rats _had_ been watching him...and planning this little rescue attempt. That was good. Now he had even _more_ possible leads on the elusive Sheikah and his farmer friend. Lorasi was a tough nut to crack, and Ascal had honestly feared he wouldn't be able to extract any information from the rent boy before he died of blood loss or shock. Now, he was expendable.

"Follow them," he told the third guard, the one he'd instructed to come calling for him. He was the stealthiest of them, and the only one Ascal trusted not to give himself away. "Memorise everything they say. Come find me when you know where the Sheikah is."

"Got it, boss."

Ascal nodded to himself as the guard went to follow them, turning in the opposite direction and leaving the Shades altogether. He was feeling peckish. Perhaps his young master would be inclined to share his supper? He surely would be after learning that Ascal had made progress...


	14. The Music

The campfire crackled cheerfully under the open sky, where thousands upon thousands of stars shone down upon the world, only outdone by the luminescent beacon of the moon, its features visible even without the use of one of the powerful telescopes found at the Stargazers' Guild. It had been a while since the sky had been so clear, having been obscured by a grey-green blanket of clouds ever since the three travellers had left Castle Town behind them a little over a week ago. The mood around the fire was elevated even more by the lack of the continuous deluge that had soaked them head to toe, even through their heavy clothing. Granted, they were filthy from the muddy roads, but simply being dry was enough to lift one's spirits greatly.

Sheik found himself smiling slightly as he listened to Link and Zelda's in-depth conversation about ocarinas, a rather surprising subject for the princess and the peasant to bond over. Truth be told, he was simply happy that the tense atmosphere had long since been lifted (though he could have done without the pint of dirty water he'd had to take down his neck to accomplish it) and they could actually _enjoy_ their journey somewhat...that is, if the weather remained stable. He couldn't imagine their cheer lasting very long if the rain returned. He shook his head, determined not to let hypothetical scenarios ruin the evening, and sipped at his mug, which was filled with Zelda's favourite tea. It was the one thing she had _insisted_ on bringing after intense negotiations with Sheik on what could be considered appropriate baggage on a trip like this.

"See, the bigger the chamber, the grander the tone," Link said, holding an invisible ocarina in his hands. "Makes it sound more impressive."

Zelda nodded sagely. "Indeed, but the size makes it more difficult to play, especially for those of us with more...delicate hands." She wiggled her fingers at him for emphasis. "It would be impossible for me to play an ocarina the size you're holding right now. It is important to find a balance between size and playability, I find."

"How many songs do you know?" Link asked, leaning forward eagerly. Sheik almost feared he would tip into the fire, tensing slightly in case Link showed signs of swaying.

"Too many to count, at this point," Zelda admitted. "My nursemaid taught me every single one she knew, and I've worked out how to play many others I've heard...though on other instruments, of course."

"You haven't _heard_ music until you've heard Zelda's rendition of 'The Stubborn Donkey that Wouldn't Go'," Sheik said, grinning evilly at her and enjoying the way it made her face go red from something other than the heat of the fire. "It's absolutely riveting."

His attempt at humour was lost on Link, as the Ordonian simply nodded with a big smile on his face. Of course, that song would not seem incongruous to him, having presumably grown up with it and other songs of its kind in the village. For a princess to play such a lowly and, above all, raunchy song (the various attempts to make the donkey in question go become _rather_ creative towards the later verses) was unheard of in Hyrule's upper society. Impa's eyebrows had disappeared beneath her hair the first time she'd heard Zelda recite the lyrics. The king had found the ordeal infinitely amusing, however.

"Not as riveting as the song you composed for me on my birthday," Zelda replied, innocently ignoring the death glare Sheik threw in her direction. "The rhymes were, admittedly, a bit sloppy, but one cannot expect perfection from a ten-year-old. It was a pity your voice was lost in the acoustics of the great hall, but I still enjoyed it greatly. I hope you still remember that rhyming 'you' with 'you' isn't a good idea, though."

"I do," Sheik ground out, annoyed with himself for not remembering that particular incident...and not anticipating that Zelda would immediately trot out her most powerful weapon. Total and utter annihilation had always been her favourite chess tactic. "Impa gave me a very thorough introduction to poetry and its common mistakes that very same night, in fact."

They had been the longest three hours of Sheik's life.

"You play?" Link asked, positively beaming at him. Sheik had not at all anticipated Link's glowing appreciation for music—he would have mentioned his own forays into that field earlier if he'd known.

"I...dabble," Sheik admitted, cheeks burning. Link had definitely not failed to hear that he'd composed a song for Zelda, and was probably saving the interrogation about _that_ for later. "On occasion."

"The ocarina?" the Ordonian asked.

"Oh, no," Zelda said with a chuckle. "Sheik is far too dignified to lower himself to an instrument you _blow_ into...or so I've been told." She gave the Sheikah a pointed glance as she spoke, probably thinking she was _oh so very clever_ with that comment. "No, Link, Sheik plays a far more sophisticated and elegant instrument than the ocarina."

"Yeah? Which one?" Link was leaning towards Sheik now, which was far from unpleasant. If Zelda hadn't been there, Sheik would have been tempted to kiss him.

"The lyre," Sheik said, remembering the first time he'd ever picked up and plucked the strings of one. He'd begged Impa for one of his own, and she had relented surprisingly easily. Of course, the practice regime she'd devised for him later soon made him regret the whole thing... It was the one time he could ever remember _begging_ his aunt for something...apart from mercy on the training field, of course, but that was different. He'd immediately fallen in love with the instrument.

"That's the one with four strings, right?" Link asked. "We didn't really have a lot of stringed instruments back home...one of the farmhands had a guitar, but he never let anyone else play with it."

"A lyre can have up to seven strings," Sheik said, nodding. "But yes, my first had four."

"Goddesses, I still remember the first few weeks...day and night, sour notes just pouring from your chambers," Zelda said, still laughing and sipping at her tea. "You were a naturally talented lad in many things, Sheik, but music was not one of them. I'm surprised Impa continued to let you play so late at night."

"She stuffed her ears with cheese," Sheik said with a scowl. "And I don't recall _your_ first foray into the musical world going any better, my dear Zelda. In fact, I recall a stained glass window _cracking_ the first time you tried to sing in front of an audience. The king _really_ should have had a proper listen before inviting half the nobles in Hyrule for a performance. I was surprised their ears weren't bleeding by the time the nobs gratefully left the hall."

Link was laughing now, finding the escalating war between the two of them hilarious. As one, the Sheikah and the princess turned their attention on him, and the Ordonian immediately shut up, swallowing audibly.

"How about you, Link?" Zelda asked sweetly.

"Yes, Link," Sheik continued, "how did _you_ first fare when you picked up an ocarina?"

Maybe it was the way Link's expression went absolutely blank for a fraction of a second, or the way he resettled himself on the tree stump he was sitting on...or even the extra loud clearing of his throat. Either way, Sheik knew they had just stumbled over a sore subject. He was about to apologise and tell Link he didn't have to say anything—after all, it was probably related to his family, and the wound would still be fresh—

"My sister taught me," Link said, staring directly into the fire now, instead of at either of them. His voice was distant, and full of fondness as he remembered good days long since passed.

Sheik paused. He had never heard anything about a sister. Had she been...?

"I was always at her heels, following her wherever she went," Link continued, the edge of his mouth curling up slightly. "I admired everything about her. She took care of me when I was a baby, when mum was too busy with her share of the farm work. She played the ocarina to me... I didn't find it easy at first, but she was a great teacher, and soon we were playing together for the whole village. I wasn't nearly as good as her, of course, but she insisted they applaud me as much as they did her."

"She sounds like a good person," Zelda said, having picked up on the change in atmosphere.

"She was," Link agreed. "People kept telling us we looked exactly alike...and would probably break hundreds of hearts when we grew up..."

"What was her name?"

"Akia," Link said. The word seemed unfamiliar on his lips, and he hesitated slightly as he said it. "Aki, for short. She was four years older than me."

"What happened to her?" Sheik asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

Evidently, it was the wrong question to ask. Link's eyes hardened, and his fists clenched at the fabric of his trousers. He remained silent for well a minute, before finally speaking again. "She...died." His jaw was clenched. "No...that's not right...she was killed."

"I'm sorry," Sheik said, shaking his head. "I didn't know...I did not mean to—"

"Don't apologise," Link said, giving him a wooden smile. "Like you said, you didn't know. It's just...it still hurts, talking about it. Like with mum and dad, it's just...painful. Even remembering them is enough to make my chest feel tight." He rubbed at his eyes and widened the already fake-looking smile into a horrific grimace. "Anyway, that's how I learned the ocarina." Link looked between the two of them, and seemed to notice something unusual. Sheik blinked, realising that Zelda had been looking at _him_ the entire time.

"What?" he asked the princess. He caught on far too late, by which time Zelda had already begun to speak.

"Sheik, have you told him about your s—"

"Zelda."

She closed her mouth immediately at that, recognising his tone. It was the one he'd used after his first solo hunt, when he had not been in the mood for her pestering him for the story. She'd understood then, like she did now, that it was the wrong time. She nodded.

Link, however, seemed to ignore the exchange that had just taken place, looking at Sheik with a curious expression. You could say that for the Ordonian—he did not dwell on unpleasant topics for long, seemingly preferring to move on to cheerier, or more interesting subjects whenever he could. Sheik supposed it was a type of escape, as Link's mind would undoubtedly be full of negative thoughts these days. He simply focused on the positives instead, though, instead of getting bogged down with misery. It was a skill Sheik hoped he could learn...or even be taught by the Ordonian.

"Your what?" Link asked.

"My busy schedule," Sheik said, hoping to change the subject. "When I get to the Studio, there will be a million things to do, and reporting to Impa will be the least of them. I have to get my workshop up and running, and then—"

"Sheik," Link said, "don't treat me like an idiot."

"I'm not," Sheik insisted, feeling a slight tremor of annoyance going through him. Why couldn't the Hylian understand that he didn't want to talk about it? What was the point in bringing even more sadness to a campfire that, up until now, had been nothing but cheerful?

Unfortunately, Link wasn't about to leave it. "Come on, I told you my stuff—now tell me yours."

"There isn't any stuff—"

"But Zelda said—"

"She says many things, few of them make sense."

"Hey!" came the indignant response from the princess of Hyrule.

"Come on, you got a secret or something?"

"No secrets, no, just not something I want to talk about."

"Ah-ha, so there is _something_!"

"No, I mean, yes, but no—"

"Come on, Sheik!"

"No!"

Sheik stood up abruptly, glaring at his two travelling companions before stalking away, muttering something about horses and looking to them. He heard Link stand up behind him, undoubtedly intending to go after him, but Zelda's quiet voice made him sit back down.

Sheik took several deep breaths, trying to calm down as he approached the small copse of trees where they'd hitched Epona, Maladict, and Mera for the night. They'd been fed and had a small stream to drink from, and were shielded from sight by those who travelled on the road, just like the rest of their campsite. The fewer who knew the three of them were there the better. Only a few individuals knew their route and itinerary—in fact, the number should have been _one_ , but Eren and Nikal had ensured it was three. Not even Zelda knew every single detail of their journey, for her own safety.

"And how are we this evening?" he murmured, patting Maladict's flank, earning him a snort of slight annoyance from his black mount. "The ladies treating you all right, Mal?" He reached into a nearby bag and withdrew a brush, deciding that he should give the three horses a good going over while he calmed himself down, already feeling ashamed for losing his temper. And Link had had a point—he _had_ told his stuff to Sheik and the princess, while they'd offered nothing significant in return.

 _I guess we have a lot more in common than I thought, Link,_ he thought. _Too bad I'm too much of a coward to tell you._

* * *

The world was spinning. Light and shadow intermingled, either too bright or too dark to see. He was floating through the air...or was he? One second he was bobbing up and down on nothing, the next he was lying on something rough but infinitely softer and more comfortable than the straw from before. His body felt like one big bruise, each heartbeat sending a throb of pain through every part of him.

He drifted in and out of current events, sometimes hearing voices, sometimes not. Every now and then, someone was touching his shoulder, shaking him and telling him to stay awake, but it was all too easy to ignore the voices and return to the blissful oblivion where nothing hurt.

"...can't stay here...find him again..."

"Where...him? It's far too...in the city!"

There was a brief but painfully loud argument between the voices, and Lor wished they'd shut up and leave him be. He'd been tortured, raped, and humiliated...all he wanted was to sleep and have some respite from the pain...but his two saviours (who might just as well have been a different set of tormentors), would not have it.

"Lorasi, you have to stay awake," the boy (Eren, was it?) told him, shaking him a bit rougher than strictly necessary. "We don't know how badly you're injured, and we don't have time to get you to a doctor."

"What...are we...doing, then...?" Lor asked, each word grating his throat like sandpaper.

"We're...looking into it," Eren replied, sounding hesitant.

"Eren! Tinn's back!"

The girl (Nikal?) sounded excited. A door opened, and the one who entered it was panting hard. "I...went to my friend in the Watch," they announced. The voice was familiar, but Lor couldn't find a matching face in his memory...but then, his head was far too woozy to find much of anything in there at the moment. "He'll take him!"

"Thank the Goddesses," Nikal said with a sigh of relief. "Even at that distance?"

"For the money I just offered him? Absolutely. Do we know for sure that the boss will stick to the route?"

"Can't imagine why he wouldn't," Eren said. "He hates going off-schedule."

"Right, better get moving, then."

Lor was suddenly once again floating through the air, though he recognised the arms and the chest he was being pressed against this time. "You all right, Lorasi?" Tinn asked. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"'m fine," Lor managed to mutter.

"Good—listen carefully, things are about to get even more unpleasant. I'm taking you to a friend of mine in the City Watch." The door opened, and cold air washed over him. Luckily, he was wrapped in several layers of clothing which kept him warm. "He's a messenger, in charge of taking messages to the various guard posts around Hyrule. He'll take you to the boss."

"Sheik...?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Nothing made sense to him at all. Why couldn't they just drop him off back at the Temple, where he could crawl into his bed and just...sleep for a week? Madame Rosa would probably not be happy with him, but he'd saved up enough to buy himself at least two or three days of rest...

"We don't know who took you, or why. Nikal said they were asking you where the boss was, which means he's in danger. He needs to be warned, and we need to keep you out of the bastards' hands so they won't get another chance to get the answer out of you."

"But—"

"No discussion. I know it hurts, but you'll just have to toughen it out."

Lor had energy to argue, so he did try to, allowing himself to be carried through the streets. "Can I sleep?" he asked, hating but unable to do anything about his pathetic tone of voice. He'd suffered enough humiliation to last him a lifetime—he supposed he'd simply have to endure another one.

"As soon as we get you into the cart, yes," Tinn replied, adjusting his hold on Lor. Strangely enough, it was a bit more comfortable. "And don't worry, he won't bother you with questions. It'll be a bumpy ride, though."

"Life's a bumpy ride..."

Tinn snorted. "Philosophy, eh? Didn't think rent boys engaged in that."

"Bugger off, stable boy..." The smell of Tinn's clothes spoke volumes of his occupation.

That made Tinn laugh, and Lor allowed himself to slip back into darkness once more, hoping he'd wake up to something more pleasant than this.

He wouldn't.

* * *

Ascal wiped the corners of his mouth as he left his young master's bedchambers, grinning when he heard the sigh of contentment just before closing the door. That had been an...interesting supper. The young lord had been particularly active tonight, and Ascal hoped nothing had been stained. Messes of that nature were so difficult to get out of the finer fabrics used by the upper class.

He nodded to the guard stationed in the corridor, trusting the man to keep his big mouth shut. He was paying them very well to do so, but one could never quite know with such things...

"Boss," the guard said as he approached. "Art's downstairs. Said he had something interesting to tell you."

"Did Art deign to reveal the nature of this interesting thing?" Ascal asked.

"'fraid not, boss. Wouldn't tell me, either."

No, of course he wouldn't. Art was too smart to reveal sensitive information to the flunkies, though he was also much too afraid to interrupt his boss while he was doing unspeakable things to his master. The fool. Ascal grimaced, but nodded. "Right, I suppose I should go see him, then. Do tread lightly when you patrol the halls—the young master is a bit...out of it at the moment."

To his credit, the guard nearly managed to completely hide his disgusted expression, though he wasn't quite able to conceal the glower in his eyes. Ascal didn't really care—as long as the man did as he was told and didn't, as stated earlier, flap his gums. "Right you are, boss."

Ascal took his time to descend down into the kitchens, where Art was waiting. He gave the man a broad smile, _really_ hoping that his shirt hadn't been stained. It would have been _really_ visible in the cold light of the big room. "Arthur, welcome back."

"Boss," Art said in greeting.

"I trust you have good news for me?"

"The Sheikah has left the city," Art said immediately, knowing better than to engage in Ascal's false pleasantries. It was one of the good things about Arthur—he always cut directly to the chase. "Left for someplace called 'the Studio', whatever that is. A guardsman's apparently taking the whore to him at first light."

Ascal pursed his lips. The Studio? Now that was a place he hadn't seen in a _long_ time. Of course, if Link of Ordon was to become a hunter, he would have to be accepted by the others...and that meant going to their headquarters. Of course. It was obvious. Why hadn't he guessed that already? He was slipping...

"When did the Sheikah leave?" he asked.

Art shrugged. "Not sure exactly when. At least five days ago, maybe a week. Said they'd have to travel fast to catch up. They're taking the eastern road."

"Easier to hide on that road, on account of it snaking its way between every miserable little village and hamlet on to the way to Termina," Ascal said, more for his own benefit than Art's. "Hm, at first light, you said? Plenty of time to prepare." He locked eyes with Art. "Ten men should suffice, don't you think? Find the ones you trust, get them here by dawn. We will follow the whore to his john."

"Guns?" Art asked.

"If they have them, though I suspect blades will suffice." Ascal turned on his heels and headed for the stairs. "Remember, dawn."

Art didn't respond to that, choosing instead to get to work immediately. That was another good thing about Art—he didn't care much for ceremony or customs. He'd received his orders and intended to carry them out immediately. Ascal could do little but approve of such efficiency. He climbed the stairs and headed back to the young master's chambers, slipping inside quietly.

The smell in the air inside was...intoxicating. It was difficult to resist pouncing on his young master and demanding a repeat performance of their earlier actions, but that would be too much on the poor lad. Instead, he seated himself at the young lord's bedside, and carefully reached out to shake him gently. "My Lord," he said quietly. "Wake up."

"Mmm, mrfth..." the young lord said, turning away. "Room's...spinning..."

"I'm not surprised, after what we just did," Ascal said with a chuckle. "There's been a development in the Sheikah business. He has left the city. I intend to chase after him at first light."

"Sheikah...?"

Ascal smiled even wider. It had been quite a session. "The one who cost you a great deal of money after foiling your little slavery business?" he said. "The one you wanted me to chase down and kill?"

"Oh...right...good show..."

"I haven't done it yet, but I have picked up his trail. By this time next week, I will be back. Shall I bring you a trophy? His eyes, perhaps? I hear they fetch quite a price on the northern markets. Cures certain diseases, apparently. They will certainly make for a conversation piece, if you ever lower yourself to inviting your father's friends back into this house."

"I dunno...mmm..."

His young master was quite out of it, and Ascal was certain he'd remember nothing of this conversation come morning. Still, duties had to be done, and so on. He patted the young man's shoulder and quietly slipped back out of the chambers. He then retreated to the cellars of the grand old house. There, in the musty part of the building's bowels that rarely saw visitors, Ascal began to prepare. It had been some time since he'd needed his tools, and they required cleaning, along with the rest of his equipment.

It was nice, to see the old gear again. It had been far too long.

Ah, to hunt again...


	15. The Misinformation

It was a small village, settled near the border to Termina, one of hundreds that dotted the lands of Hyrule, unremarkable in every way to anyone who didn't actually live there. There were no sprawling wheat fields or vegetable patches like in Ordon. The villagers here based their livelihoods on the cows and sheep that occupied every bit of space that wasn't reserved for the crumbling houses, certainly old enough to have been owned by the current occupants' great-grandparents, or even older than that. The technological innovations of the capital had yet to reach this part of the kingdom, and Sheik doubted they would for a long time still. The people here were happily doing things the way they had always been done. Tradition was paramount in all things, which included a natural, albeit enhanced distrust of strangers, especially red-eyed ones.

"Nomad filth," a middle-aged man said as he walked past the three travellers, making sure to spit at Sheik's feet as he did so. His saliva was thick and brown from the tobacco he undoubtedly chewed, quickly melting into the thick mud that on drier days presumably served as the village's main road, skewering the rows of crooked buildings like a lumpy, brown river.

Sheik didn't flinch, giving the man a polite smile as if he'd just been wished good day. Simultaneously, he also put a hand on Link's shoulder as the older boy tried to step forward, undoubtedly to give the man a piece of his mind. The Hylian turned his outraged look on Sheik, and was rewarded with a shake of his head. "He just called you—"Link began.

"I know," Sheik said gently, cutting him off. "And I can assure you I have been called _much_ worse things than that. I'd even go as far as describing that as the equivalent of a 'good morning' to my kind in these parts. I'm surprised he didn't call for the priest or arrange a lynching party from the moment he saw me." Sheik grinned, but his smile faded when Link's didn't join it. The Hylian was scowling still, refusing to meet his eyes. "Link, I have thick skin. It's going to take more than that to hurt or offend me."

"Shouldn't have to be hurt or offended at all," Link said sourly, tightening his hold on Epona's reins.

They'd decided to lead the horses into town rather than ride, to put the villagers at ease given the considerable amount of weaponry Sheik and Link were carrying. Zelda appeared to be unarmed, but Sheik knew that she concealed more than one blade beneath her leathers. Impa had trained her to be able to defend herself if she were ever separated from her bodyguard, just as a precaution.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but getting angry on my account is just a recipe to becoming a bitter, bitter person, Link, and that is simply not a good look on you," Sheik replied, patting his shoulder. "Besides, they may hate my guts on principle, but when push comes to shove they're usually quite content with hiring a Sheikah...and paying us."

Link's mood did not seem to improve, and he turned to look at Zelda, who had remained quiet up until now. One could have mistaken her silence for a desire to remain neutral, but one needed only to look at her face to realise she was using all her energy to keep herself calm. She had never accepted anyone treating Sheikah as lesser beings at court, not even when her father was alive. Her tantrums had become quite famous, and in short order anyone who hoped to maintain good relations with their future queen kept their bigotry to themselves, behind closed doors.

"And you?" Link asked her. "You're just going to accept it?"

"Of course not," she ground out between clenched teeth. "But what am I to do? Have him flogged or put in the stocks?"

"Absolutely not," Sheik said quickly. "That will only make things worse. Plus, no one can know who you are." He shook his head. "Enough, now. I have a job to do. If you two are going to mutter angrily to yourselves about the unfairness of the world, I suggest you do it elsewhere and stop disrupting me." He cleared his throat and glanced around, hoping he'd chosen the right spot for this. It seemed to the closest thing to a central square the village had, in front of the tavern...or the ramshackle pile of bricks that _served_ as the local tavern, at the very least. It was the only place he'd seen so far that could hold any sort of gathering of the inhabitants, at least.

If they would come out, that is. It was a wet afternoon, the sky covered with a grey lid of clouds. The rain came in short showers and squalls, unpleasant and cold. Those who did not have pressing business or had to attend to the animals wisely chose to stay inside—and he doubted they would come out to listen to a blood-eye's twisted words. Still, though, it was his job, and he had to follow protocol even though he was the Master Hunter's nephew.

"Ladies and gentlemen of this good village!" he shouted as loud as he could. "Lend me your ears! My name is Sheik of the Sheikah, and I am a Hunter! You have heard of us, and know what we do, and I am here to offer my services! Any job, big or small, that falls into my area of expertise will be accepted for sufficient coin or sellable items of equivalent value!"

There was no immediate reaction other than a chorus of annoyed shouts back telling him to shut or or leave the village before he contaminated it. That was usual—he would have been worried if there _wasn't_ such a reaction to his shouting.

"I will indeed be on my way very soon, should there not be a need for a Hunter here. However, my companions and I are quite weary from our travels, and will be setting up camp just outside of the village, where we will remain for the next three hours! Please, should you find the need of a skilled Hunter, do not hesitate to call upon me! Thank you for your time and attention!"

There was another wave of voices telling him to bugger off, and no clients. Again, that was fair. No one liked having their mornings spoiled by a shouting nitwit, but they usually just needed a little time to overcome the massive anger problems they all suffered, fuelled by a crippling shyness around strangers...and handsome, young men with red eyes and blonde tresses that were to _die for_...or so Sheik liked to assume. He turned to Link and Zelda and nodded. "Shall we?" he asked.

"We're not staying in the tavern?" Link asked as he and Zelda began to follow Sheik, leading their horses after him and Maladict. "I'd like to get dry..."

"You're free to do so," Sheik said, looking at them both. "They'll never let _me_ in there."

"They did in the other taverns," Zelda said, sounding unsure. Sheik wondered if she'd ever experienced the intense dislike of the Sheikah people up close like this, instead of suffering through boring though toothless tirades made by the nobs at court. Commoners' hatred was a different beast altogether. Commoners usually dealt with problems hands-on and by themselves. And when commoners dealt with problems...things got messy.

"That's because I was accompanied by you two respectable, attractive Hylians who vouched for me and my coin," Sheik explained happily. "Plus, those villages were quite big and on the main thoroughfares. Practically metropolises. This one isn't. I'd be surprised if they see more than a dozen travellers each year. You won't find that kind of hospitality here."

"Sheik..."

"Quite used to it, as I said," Sheik said, not interested in getting into the discussion that was surely on the tip of the princess' tongue. "And impossible to do anything about at the moment. Let's just find a dry-ish spot on the edge of the village and get some rest. If we're lucky, there won't be any work for me and we can get underway by noon."

They did find a relatively dry spot of land just outside the village, under a thick patch of trees that did a wonderful job of deflecting the falling water with their leafy branches. Sure, the grass was covered in cow patties from the grazing animals, but those were easily avoided if you watched your step. They didn't bother with the tarpaulin, but they managed to get a small fire going to keep warm, at least. Zelda tried to bring up the subject a couple of times, but Sheik deflected each attempt. She gave up soon enough, and an hour or so later they were merrily discussing the ridiculousness of the masquerade and its guests.

"...and don't even get me started on Lord Camdessus and his economic concerns," she said, shaking her head. "He kept trying to corner me and discuss alternative ways to generate income—a subject I would happily have discussed in the council chamber, but hardly when I am tipsy from wine and trying to spend time with a dear friend."

"And pissing said friend off by inviting yourself on a trip to the Studio," Sheik said sourly. "And what monetary revolution did Lord Camdessus suggest this time?" He could vaguely recall the name, though he he couldn't connect a face to it. Zelda had expressed frustration with the name before...

"I never let him get that far," the princess in disguise said, shaking her head. "I told him firmly that this was a subject best broached during an official council meeting, and he actually gave up after three attempts to corner me. He seemed quite annoyed, but his servant was there to calm him down, luckily. Didn't see him again after that. I gave the guards a—"

"Shh, Hilda," Link hissed sharply, silencing her. Anywhere else, in any other situation, Sheik would have been angry with his rudeness (Goddesses knew how Zelda's guards would have reacted to a commoner shushing their princess), but this was the trio's agreed-upon signal, one to be made whenever they were in danger of being overhead by strangers and enemies, people who under no circumstances could be made aware of Zelda's true identity. They'd even made up a name for her, just in case.

One of the villagers was approaching them, carefully picking his way through the grass. He seemed to be dressed in what passed for finery in these parts, and judging by the chain around his neck Sheik assumed he was the mayor or alderman of the village. He was carrying a pouch in his hand, which jangled with each step. Sheik smiled beneath his high collar.

_Time,_ he thought. _That is all they need._

He stood up, brushing himself off. Link and Zelda did the same, and the man paused, seemingly intimidated by the three of them. He steeled himself, however, and took the final ten steps or so that brought him to their fire. "You're a hunter?" he asked gruffly. His teeth whistled as he spoke. Sheik had no idea how that was even possible.

"I am," Sheik replied, nodding. He made no attempt to lower his collar or remove his hat, exposing as little of his face and skin as possible. For hygienic reasons on a hunt, he'd told Link. For intimidating troublemakers outside of hunts. It worked quite well, usually, and this case was no exception. The man gave him a wary glance before nodding back towards the village.

"Tavern," he said. "Got a beast trapped in the cellars. We'd kill it ourselves, but..."

"Better leave it to a professional, I agree," Sheik said with a nod. "Before I accept the contract, I need to know a few things. Please, have a seat."

The man did so, shifting uncomfortably while making sure he was directly on the opposite side of the fire as Sheik, as if that would ward off some evil spell or something similar—the kind Link had mentioned when they first met. Silly, of course. If Sheik wanted to harm the man, he'd have shot him the moment he saw him approach.

"What'd you need to know?" he asked.

"The nature of the beast," Sheik said. "What does it look like? What does it sound like? Is it bipedal or quadrupedal?" The last two words seemed to confound the man, and Sheik adjusted his vocabulary accordingly. "Does it walk on two or four legs? Does it have more legs than that?"

The man shook his head. "Two legs..."

In his head, Sheik crossed off a long list of creatures he'd accept a contract for. It was a pity, really. Bipeds were a varied group of creatures; some were incredibly dangerous while others were practically harmless. He never accepted contracts on the harmless ones, though he usually did his best to ensure the creatures were put in a position where they could neither hurt themselves or anyone else. He didn't much like the idea of fighting in a cellar, either, so he crossed his fingers and hoped it was one of the latter types of creatures.

"Is it humanoid? Does it have skin, or scales like a lizard?" He paused, shaking his head. "My apologies, that was a bad category to start with. Would you describe it as a Hylian 'gone wrong'? Perhaps an undead-like creature?"

If the man intended to hide the true nature of the creature from Sheik, he failed to hide his reaction when the Sheikah said 'gone wrong'. That made it a little easier to guess what the creature is.

"Does it speak?" he continued. "Does it form intelligible words, or is it just moaning and groaning?"

"Doesn't speak," the man said, sighing. "Tries to, but can't."

"I see...is it a big creature? Has it hurt people?"

"It tries to, but we've stopped it so far."

Sheik sat back, staring hard at the man. "How long have you been keeping it in the tavern cellar?"

"Few weeks."

"Where did it come from?"

"Shambled out of the woods, screaming bloody murder. Tried to bite Anna's throat out, but we got it off 'er before it did more than puncture and rip off some skin. Poor lass'll be scarred for life."

Now Sheik leaned forward, drawing a sharp breath. Beside him, he noticed Zelda tensing up, while Link seemed to pay rapt attention to everything he was saying. "Has Anna shown any signs of illness after the bite?" Sheik asked. "Any fever or discolouration of the skin, around the bite or elsewhere?"

The man shook his head. "No, thank the Goddesses. Seems perfectly healthy, apart from refusing to go anywhere near the tavern."

Sheik nodded. That was a relief. Had the creature been the type he'd immediately suspected, he'd be in for a _lot_ of work. But this...perhaps this was manageable after all. "I see...has anyone else been bitten or scratched by the creature?"

"Everyone wears thick clothes when dealing with it or feeding it," the man said.

Sheik nodded. "I understand. And what would you like me to do with this creature?"

"Kill it, of course," the man said. "It's a menace, and too dangerous to be left alive!"

"Naturally," Sheik said, rising smoothly to his feet. "On behalf of the Hunters, I accept the contract. The standard fee for miscellaneous bipedal beasts is ten gold coins, or fifty rupees, though this amount may increase in cases of extreme difficulty or deliberate misinformation. It is customary to offer half the payment now as security, and the rest upon completion of the job." The man looked sceptical, but nodded slowly and withdrew five grubby gold coins from his pouch, leaving it by the fire instead of handing it directly to Sheik. Probably an effort to ward off whatever nasty diseases the blood-eye carried. Sheik took that in stride. "I suggest you empty out the tavern while I do my work," he said. "Also, is the creature chained up or caged in anyway?"

"No," the man said shortly, already turning to walk back to the village, hopefully to clear the tavern of anyone who could get hurt in the proceedings.

Sheik crossed his arms and hummed for a moment, waiting for the inevitable—

"How rude," Zelda said with a huff. "He couldn't even _give_ you the money like a decent person."

"He _could_ have thrown it into the fire," Sheik said. "I consider it a blessing he didn't."

"Do you know what kind of creature it is?" Link asked, realising that there was no point in trying to make Sheik feel as outraged at his treatment as they were. There was a glint of eagerness in his eyes—excited to learn more about being a hunter, Sheik supposed.

Sheik shook his head. "His description was far too vague to make an accurate guess, and the way he exploded when I asked what I was to do with it tells me that this whole affair is a sore point. There was no point in extending the discussion. From the way he described the first attack, I'd assume some sort of undead creature, most likely a ReDead. I thought that particular infection had been wiped out in Hyrule, but perhaps some small part of it escaped, carried by a rat or something." He paused. "Though...even then I have my doubts."

"Why?" Zelda asked.

"The man said they'd been feeding the creature." He said, frowning and walking around the fire to pick up the grubby coins left behind, counting them out and weighing them in his hand to ensure they were the real thing. They certainly seemed real. "ReDeads will actively bite a person and tear them to pieces, yes, but unlike the other types of undead, they do not actually _consume_ the victim...or anything else, for that matter. That, my friends, makes me suspect that there is something else going on here." He looked to Link, who was in the middle of preparing his gear. "Which is why I will be conducting this hunt alone...though I would describe it more as an execution."

Link's eyes widened, outraged. "What? Alone? The hell you are! You said it yourself the thing is dangerous—I'm not letting you go in there by yourself."

"You will," Sheik said firmly, locking eyes with Link. "You are not an official hunter yet, and while I appreciate the assistance you provided in Castle Town, those were more or less routine affairs. This might be something we've never encountered before, and we know nothing of its capabilities or behaviour. If that's the case, I will need to study it and require room to manoeuvre." He gave Link a tentative and (hopefully) placating smile. "I can't have my first recruit getting hurt because I got careless, can I?"

Link's jaw clenched, but he nodded all the same. "Fine...but I'll be waiting inside the tavern, ready to help if you need it."

"That will be fine," Sheik agreed. "You'll be the last line of defence in case it gets past me."

"And what will I be doing in all this?" Zelda asked innocently, though Sheik recognised her false tone immediately. Before he could even open his mouth and tell her to stay put, she interrupted him. "Helping Link, naturally," she said while giving the Sheikah a look that left no room for argument. "If you're supposed to protect me, then leaving me out here in the wild all by myself isn't going to help, is it?"

Sheik wondered what he'd done to deserve this. "If Your Highness had deigned to consider this an official royal visit, then she could have brought her entire bloody army for protection," he muttered sourly. "Would've saved me a world of trouble."

"But Sheiky, then I wouldn't have had the sheer pleasure of your delightful and not-at-all grouchy company," she said, chuckling. "And believe me when I tell you there is a very good reason for why no one knows where I am going."

"But you're not going to tell us?" Link said, looking torn between his princess and Sheik and whom to support.

"Politics, Link," Sheik answered for her. "A great, impenetrable maze of names, opinions, strategies, and plans that will be utterly incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't been engaging in them for years. I believe Zelda when she says she has a good reason, and I don't bother asking why because I would never in a thousand years understand it."

Zelda looked guilty at that. "If there were another way, I would take it," she said. "The reason for my visit will most definitely benefit the hunters, however. Keep that in mind—perhaps that makes my presence an easier pill to swallow."

_Is it possible to crack one's skull open against the trunk of a birch?_ Sheik wondered. "It's not your presence that bothers me," he said before turning and stalking towards the village. "Put out the fire and bring the horses to the tavern," he told them over his shoulder. "I'll start preparing."

_And pray that it's not another infection..._

* * *

Had this particular tavern been located in Castle Town, it would long ago have been closed down by the authorities for the sheer lack of hygiene of the environment in which its food and drink were stored. The cellar was dank and leaky, and there were patches of various species of fungi growing everywhere. Had the creature been trapped down here for months, Sheik could have forgiven the shabby conditions since no one would have dared to spend time cleaning it up, but a few weeks? He was suddenly happy that his kind would not be served here, if only because it served as an excuse to avoid Link or Zelda getting poisoned by the food stored down here.

His circular lantern shone brightly, the knob turned as far up as it could go. It lit him up brightly and painted him as a target, but the cellars were surprisingly big, larger than the tavern to which they belonged was certainly. They were built with a different type of brick as well, far older than the ones of the tavern, which had him wonder if perhaps the village had been built upon the remains of an ancient fort or castle, whose cellars covered the entire area. It must have made it quite an interesting affair for the builders whenever they accidentally struck empty space instead of solid ground, when constructing the houses.

The stairs behind him creaked, and he didn't need to look back to see Link's shadow on the floor behind him. The Hylian was standing at the top, ready to deal with the creature if it did indeed make it past Sheik...and to anxiously await the Sheikah's return, he was sure.

He reached an intersection of three corridors, each of which seemed to stretch off into the infinite darkness, shelves of food and drink lining each wall. Doors filled the spaces that weren't occupied by the stored wares, some firmly closed while others nearly hung off their hinges. One had been bashed down from the inside, splintered to pieces that littered the hall. This was the one Sheik took an interest in first, walking straight ahead through the intersection.

The room beyond was small and empty, save for an empty bowl which smelled of garlic. Dark splatters of dried blood had stained the walls.

_But whose blood? The creature's, or a villager's?_

He drew one of his pistols, making sure it was loaded and primed. He'd already done so at least three times each with all four of the guns he carried, but it never hurt to be absolutely certain. He gave the room another glance before stepping back into the hall, careful not to make too much noise. The heels of his boots clicked uncomfortably loud on the stone floor, and he hoped to the Goddesses that the creature he was hunting was not of the sharp-eared kind.

It had clearly been strong enough to finally knock down the door of its cell, out of desperation, anger, or hunger. Granted, upon closer inspection, the wood was quite rotten, but it would still have required quite a bit of force to fall apart in such an _explosive_ fashion.

_Now, where should I go...?_

As if on cue, a howl reverberated through the cellars. It sent shivers down Sheik's spine, and he had to force himself not to draw a second pistol. He didn't recognise the howl as one belonging to any type of undead creature he was familiar with...it had sounded much too _alive_ for that. Beneath the anger and pain, there was a _voice_. A real voice...

_Someone didn't tell me the whole story_ , he thought as he began to walk in the direction the scream had come from, turning down his lantern's flame a bit. It wouldn't do be set alight if it broke, after all.

He emerged into a large, open area where the establishment's wine barrels were kept. Gigantic, four of them lined the wall and reached the surprisingly high ceiling, the rest of the floor space occupied by smaller casks and tapping equipment. It was a dead end, with no other exits than the corridor Sheik had just come through.

_That's impossible,_ he thought, narrowing his eyes and studying the equipment closely. _The sound came from this room._

Another sweep of the room with his eyes revealed nothing, and he walked closer to the barrels, paying attention to the dark spaces between them. The first two revealed nothing, the third a moth-eaten hat, and the fourth...nothing again.

Grunting, Sheik stood back up...and froze. The air in the room had changed, been disturbed. He could hear breathing...besides his own. For a moment, he was sure his ears were deceiving him...but then there was a thump behind him. He whirled around, pistol raised, and paused. There was a figure standing in the doorway, blocking it. It stood on two legs, as the alderman had said, arms hanging limply by its sides. Said arms were long and skinny, with one terminating in a slender-fingered hand while the other ended with a twisted, malformed lump, like the head of a mace. Its body was wiry, its back hunched over. It was naked, and male from what Sheik could see. Its head hung low, with filthy and knotted hair hanging down to cover its face.

Sheik stepped back, bending his knees slightly, prepared to react to whatever happened next.

Nothing.

Nothing happened. The creature simply stood there, swaying slightly and breathing (although the word wheezing seemed more appropriate for the sounds it made), watching him. Waiting.

_What is this beast?_ Sheik wondered. _It looks nothing like anything I have ever hunted or read about before. The skin looks healthy, which means it's not undead, but its deformities..._

Before he had time to analyse it further, the creature attacked. It howled, and threw itself at him, swinging its right stubby limb like a club, aiming for Sheik's head. It was surprisingly fast, but not fast enough, and Sheik easily sidestepped the blow, content to watch its effect on the wine barrel behind him. Expecting the fist-like lump to bounce off the sturdy wood, he was shocked when the barrel practically exploded from the impact, dark-red wine spilling everywhere, washing over Sheik's boots like a tide of blood. The creature howled once more and recoiled from the impromptu shower, rubbing its eyes. Sheik wasted no time; he sprang forward and slammed his shoulder into its chest, forcing it backwards. It gave another cry and swung at him, but he ducked the clumsy, blind attack, and kicked it in the stomach.

The creature had seemed robust enough (apart from its wiry frame), but when it gave a wheeze and collapsed to its knees, clutching its stomach, his mind came to a crashing halt, and he ceased attacking. Instead, he jumped backwards and aimed his gun at the suddenly pitiful beast, finger itching on the trigger. Watching. Studying. Waiting.

By now, he'd usually be in a vicious fight to the death, as the creature's instincts would have kicked in and focused on the most important thing of all: survival. This one, however, didn't seem to be ruled by instincts. It gave a pitiful whine, and curled up on itself, nearly choking on the inch-deep wine that had flooded the room. That gave Sheik a start. Not once had he hunted a creature that did not fight to the bitter end.

With the gun aimed firmly at the thing's centre mass, Sheik stepped closer. No reaction. He took another step. Nothing yet. He was now five steps away, and still it did not pay him any attention, more than content to rub its stomach and whine and...cry? Its shoulders were shaking, sharp intakes of breath, much too similar to sobbing for comfort wracking its body...

"Hello?"

Sheik's voice was surprisingly loud in the room, amplified greatly by the stone.

"Can you understand me?"

Whether it understood him or not, the creature clearly heard him, freezing for a brief moment before resuming its pitiful actions. Sheik was close enough to touch it with his boot now, which he did, nudging its side. It gasped and shuffled away, crawling backwards until it hit the wall. It leaned its head back to look up at him, causing the tangled hair that covered its face to fall aside.

Whatever he'd suspected the creature to be, all those thoughts came crashing down when intelligence stared back at him, with a set of eyes that looked _very_ familiar...and filled with fear. It... _he_...saw the pistol aimed at him, and immediately tried to back up further, slamming its back against the wall and whimpering. His jaw, oversized and misshapen, moved as unintelligible syllables came pouring out, a never-ending stream of gibberish that communicated one thing: I don't want to die!

Sheik immediately lowered the barrel so it was pointed at the floor, shaking his head at the same time. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, softening his voice. He also crouched down, making himself appear less threatening (as well as that could be done considering the multiple guns and swords he carried on his person, along with the imposing. long coat). "I'm sorry, it appears I have been greatly misled."

The man's deformities could easily be mistaken for those of a beast. Sheik just had, after all. But the eyes, the clear signs of some measure of intelligence, and the ears, pointed, marked him as anything but a monster. An unfortunate, yes, but not a monster.

_He's been kept down here for much longer than just a few weeks,_ Sheik thought, studying the poor man's pallor. He was abnormally skinny, but that was no wonder if he'd only been fed scraps. _I must be the first person in a long time who hasn't spoken harshly to him...or hurt him in some way._ He sighed, holstering the pistol.

"My name is Sheik," he said, softening his voice even further, and pulling down his collar to reveal his face, careful to keep the growing anger within him concealed. "What's yours?"

The man only continued to mutter unintelligible words, shaking his head. His face was heavily scarred, eyes nearly hidden by a sloping forehead, but there was no mistaking the features.

He made another few attempts at communicating with the man, but it was clear that terror had overtaken the unfortunate, and Sheik soon gave up. He'd spent too much time on this idiotic contract already. "I'm sorry," he told the cowering man. "But I have to leave now. I am sorry for frightening you."

Link was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, sword drawn and ready. He visibly relaxed when he saw Sheik, but tensed right up again when he saw the red spatters on his coat. "Sheik, are you hurt—"

"It's wine, Link, don't worry," Sheik interrupted, shaking his head. "Let's go back upstairs."

"What about the beast? I heard a roar, but nothing more, and I thought—"

"The _beast_ has been dealt with. I'll explain more later. For now, I'd like to find the alderman." He gently steered Link ahead of him up the stairs, taking no chances. He also closed and locked the cellar door behind him. It was a horrible thing that was taking place here, but...it wasn't his business.

* * *

Half the village seemed to be waiting outside the tavern when the three of them stepped outside. Zelda had been just as curious as Link, but she too had found Sheik to be an impenetrable wall. The alderman was at the forefront, looking nervous, fiddling nervously with his chain of office. "W-Well?" he asked, his earlier brash tone gone. "Is it done? Is the beast dead?"

Sheik took a deep breath, trying to fight the urge to shout. That wouldn't make things better at all. Instead, he marched up to the alderman, stopping about five paces away from the man, and fished out his money pouch. He made an elaborate show of counting out five gold coins, the same ones he'd received an hour earlier for the contract, and dropped them into the mud at the man's feet.

"There is no beast," he said as calmly as he could. "I did not kill the _man_ you are keeping trapped in the cellars...and _have_ been keeping that way for much longer than you said. I can imagine what sort of impression you've got of my people as a whole, but the hunters...we are not executioners; we are not assassins." He stepped closer to the alderman, who took a small step back...which Sheik followed immediately. "We do not take contracts on people," he said icily, glaring into the alderman's oh-so-familiar eyes.

"You want your son dead? For the embarrassment of being born different?" he asked, loud enough for the entire gathering, including Link and Zelda, to hear. "Have the balls to do it yourself." He turned his fearsome glare on the others, not even feeling satisfaction at how they all looked away, unable to meet his gaze. That was a first, for a Sheikah to stare down a village full of Hylians. "Link, Hilda, we're leaving."

Thankfully, neither of the two argued, either paying heed to his tone of voice...or being unable to recover from the shock of what they'd just heard. It wasn't until they were at the edge of the village, leading the horses, that Zelda spoke up.

"I don't understand...the man wanted you to kill his own _son_?!"

"The son is...different. Born with an unfortunate and crippled form," Sheik said, voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. He had to control himself. Had to fight the urge to rush back and blow the alderman's brains out, and then the others'... "Not very intelligent, but very much a person; not a beast. The story about the girl was probably a lie, to give me an incentive to take the contract in case of the possibility of an undead plague. Hunters do not kill people, except in self-defence—remember that, Link. We do not take contracts on people. Ever."

"But...should we be leaving him here?" Link asked, pausing and looking back. The gathering of villagers was still there, arguing. "What are they going to do wit him?"

"He is not our responsibility," Sheik said firmly. "They've been keeping him down there for months, if not years. I bet there isn't a single person in that wretched village with the guts to do it themselves."

_And if they try, they'll have their skull caved in by that club of a fist..._

"But...I..." Zelda started and stopped. "It's illegal to...to do this!"

"Who's going to stop them?" Sheik asked, climbing onto Maladict's saddle, settling himself comfortably. "There aren't any watchmen out here to stop them...but as I said, they won't kill them. None of them have the stones." He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists tightly. "The alderman's lucky I didn't put a bullet in _his_ head," he muttered.

"I'm glad you didn't," Link said, sounding uncertain. Nevertheless, he too climbed into his saddle, followed shortly by Zelda, who'd gone quiet. She seemed to be learning something new about her people today. "For your own sake, not his," the Ordonian clarified, throwing a disgusted glance back at the village. "He wasn't worth it."

_There's nothing we can do for him_ , Sheik told himself. _Nothing. Free him, and he'll die in the wilds, or be captured by slavers, or killed by the next hunter, who won't bother with looking as close as I did..._

Perhaps it _would_ have been a mercy to put the man out of his misery...

Such thoughts would haunt him for weeks, he knew, but nevertheless he spurred Maladict on, and they left that miserable, rain-soaked, muddy ditch of a village far behind.


	16. The Purge

Ascal crouched in the middle of the crossroads, inspecting the multitude of tracks imprinted in the mud. People, animals, and carts had all come through here in the past few days, and the trail they'd been following so far had effectively been erased...or, rather, blended in too well with the others to be distinguished. A minor annoyance, of course. It would just take a little time to figure out which tracks belonged to the cart in question...but this was yet another annoyance in a growing pile of them. The fact that the little bastards back at Castle Town had managed to fool them from the very beginning had only been the first drop in a proverbial cup that was, indeed, beginning to runneth over.

They hadn't left at dawn. They had left hours before, possibly minutes after Arthur had decided to return and report to Ascal. That wasn't the man's fault, of course, but Ascal was nevertheless grateful that Art had decided to remain quiet up until now. Naturally, the fact that they had begun the chase with the quarry having a head start of several hours was only a minor annoyance thanks to the recent rains, leaving ample tracks in its wake.

"Hm," Ascal hummed to himself, wondering if the wainwrights had finally come to some sort of agreement on the dimensions of cartwheels, or if he'd just been unlucky. On one hand, it would be impressive if they'd managed to come to such an arrangement in the first place, but on the other it left it almost _impossible_ to see the difference between the wheel tracks in terms of size. "Bugger it all," he muttered.

"Boss."

Ascal felt a twinge of annoyance, but rose to his full height and turned to face Arthur, who looked quite impassive despite knowing how displeased his employer was at the moment. "Yes, Art?"

"The men are getting antsy," Arthur replied. "Might start fightin' between themselves."

"Already?" Ascal asked, raising an eyebrow...though the motion was hidden quite well by his tricorne hat and high collar that left as little of his face exposed as possible. His old uniform still fit, he'd been pleased to find. "We've only been here for an hour. Are they truly that starved for stimulus?"

Arthur gracefully decided not to make an attempt at interpreting the unfamiliar word, choosing instead to nod. "I'd say so, yeah."

"Well, unfortunately we cannot move on until we find their tracks," Ascal explained patiently, casting a glance at the band of ruffians Arthur had gathered for this little excursion into the greater realm of Hyrule...though he suspected they'd see even _more_ of the world soon, as they were getting closer and closer to the border to Termina. "So unless one of your carefully chosen men has a clever way of discerning which road to follow from here on out, I'm afraid they will simply have to find some way to occupy themselves." He paused. "That _doesn't_ involve beating each other to death," he added.

"Aye, boss."

Arthur was a simple man, and good at following orders. Vicious too, when given the opportunity. Just the type of muscle Ascal liked having at his command. They made life so much simpler.

Nodding with satisfaction, Ascal returned to his work. He had a small map of Hyrule in one hand, on which he'd marked all the possible routes that Sheik could have taken on his way to the Studio. All back roads, of course. He'd want to be careful. He studied the crossroad sign, found the names of the villages on the map. Two of the four roads would lead to Termina in due time, each taking its travellers through a number of small hamlets and villages before finally reaching the border, equally out of the way of anything important.

It was an exercise in frustration, trying to narrow down which of the two roads they would take. Of course, he could split his party in two and take both roads, but Ascal hadn't survived in this particular life for so long without learning a thing or two...and one of those things was to never underestimate a hunter, and to always endeavour to hold the high ground, so to speak. To tip the odds in his favour. This hunter, Sheik, was young. Very much so. But from what Ascal had managed to learn about him, he was anything but a fool, and already an accomplished killer of beasts. Ascal would feel much more confident facing him with the greatest number of men he could muster at his back.

In the end, he chose the road with the least amount of tracks, figuring that the Sheikah would choose the less-trafficked way if his desire for secrecy was anything like the rest of his people's. They followed the winding road through the woods for an hour or so, and then came upon a small village...though the word was rather generous for the loose collection of ramshackle buildings propped up around the road. It was the sort of place that rarely saw visitors, and the few who came through were usually encouraged to move on quickly, lest something unpleasant happened to them.

On any other day, Ascal would not have bothered stopping. The Sheikah may have passed through here, or he might have left the road momentarily to go _around_ the village to avoid rousing suspicion...but the cart carrying the whore did not have that option.

There was a gathering at the steps to what appeared to be the local tavern. Three of the village men were carrying dull-looking axes, their faces apprehensive as a fourth man wearing a thick chain of office (the local alderman, perhaps?) seemed to be lecturing them, waving his arms in anger.

Their attention was quickly drawn to the approaching party, however, and the alderman ceased his yelling to face them.

"Good afternoon, sir," Ascal announced as he climbed out of his saddle, ignoring the way his boots seemed to sink slightly into the muddy ground when he landed. "Ladies, gentlemen," he added, nodding to the rest of the twenty-or-so gathered there. "I say, has a cart driven by a city watchman passed through your lovely village in the past few days?"

The alderman narrowed his eyes, but shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, sir," he said, looking at the others. "Has any of you?"

There was a general murmur of no from the crowd, to which the alderman gave Ascal a helpless look. "I'm afraid we don't know, sir. They could have passed through in the night."

Ascal wasn't really listening, but was studying the man's pale face. Something was bothering him greatly, but it didn't seem to be the matter of the cart. "I see...well, then I apologise for our intrusion. We shall be on our way immediately." He then made a theatrical pause, and gave the alderman a close look. "Is something wrong, sir? Pardon my rudeness, but you seem a bit bothered." He looked at the axe-wielding villagers at the top of the stairs. "Some sort of infestation, perhaps?"

The alderman was looking closely at Ascal now, truly taking in the heavy coat, numerous weapons and face-concealing clothes. "There's...there's a monster in the cellar."

Ascal widened his eyes. "A monster, you say? What kind of monster?"

"A dangerous one. It's already killed several children."

A downright lie, that. Ascal could spot bad liar from miles away, and he was quite certain the alderman would have been visible from halfway across the world. Still, he nodded sagely and pulled down his collar slightly to give the man a small smile. "I see...well, that is certainly a beast that is far too dangerous to be left alive. I have quite a bit of experience with dealing with monsters...would you care for some assistance?"

"Are you a hunter too?" the alderman asked.

_Too?_ Ascal thought. "I am," he said, nodding. "In fact, I am looking for one of our own. My apprentice. A Sheikah, to be exact. Red eyes, blonde hair. You wouldn't happen to have seen him?"

Ascal could see the wheels turning in the wretched man's mind. It was already clear that Sheik had passed through here, but a little additional information could never hurt. And now the man was doing an attempt at calculating a price.

"What is the information worth to you?" was the answer he finally got, and Ascal had to contain his laughter. The tone was supposed to be friendly with a bit of slyness, but it ended up just...clumsy.

"Oh, I don't know," Ascal said slowly, making a show of thinking carefully. "A hunt, free of charge?" he offered. "I deal with your monster in the cellar, you tell me where my wayward apprentice has gotten off to and any other information you might have about him...and his companion."

The alderman looked nervously at Ascal, and then at his men. He finally nodded. "Agreed. Do you need some time to prepare...?"

"Not at all," Ascal said cheerfully, drawing his rapier. "The mark of a good hunter is how little he needs to prepare; how good his instincts are. Arthur, my man, you and the boys can wait up here. I will be right back. Do you have a lantern I can borrow?"

* * *

The alderman kept a careful watch over the rough-looking men the other hunter had brought with him. They were all armed to the teeth, which he supposed was for security on the road, but still... He'd had his suspicions about the Sheikah, and they were now confirmed by the boy's master. Of course the blood-eye had been on the run with his companions—hunters took whatever contracts they could get, and clearly this one had gone against some sort of rule. Perhaps he had refused another contract, like the one the alderman had offered him.

That beast is no son of mine, he thought, casting a glance at the closed door to the tavern. The hunter's second in command, Arthur, was leaning against it, letting no one enter or leave. Why had things gotten so complicated? If only that _thing_ hadn't gotten so rowdy and broken out of its cell...

His fellow townsmen had all retreated to their homes, unnerved by the newcomers to the village. Truth be told, they'd probably much rather just tell the master hunter where the cart had gone so they could be on their way, but no one had actually seen it.

Any further thoughts were interrupted by Arthur moving away from the door as it opened, revealing the master hunter holding a bloody cloth sack in his hand. His rapier was sheathed, and his clothes were immaculate. He pulled down his collar, revealing a grin that was a little too wide considering the work he'd just performed. "Fear not," he announced to the alderman and threw the sack at his feet. "The beast has been slain. I suggest you burn the body, to lessen the chance of infection. As for the head...well, a trophy could be made, I suppose."

The alderman stared at the sack by his feet. Blood was leaking from it, mixing with the mud. So that was his...its head... He suddenly felt sick, the urge to vomit seizing him.

"Now," the master hunter said, nodding to Arthur, "I believe it is time for you to fulfil your part of our little bargain, sir. My apprentice—when did you last see him and his companion, and which way did they head?"

Unable to take his eyes off the sack, the alderman stumbled through his explanation. "They...they passed through a few days ago...three, I think...headed east, on the road to Switt."

The hunter nodded. "I see. And did they say anything you'd consider of note?"

"Not...not to my...knowledge," the alderman said, nearly gagging. "The three of them were talking about...some lord...Camdessus...gah!" He jumped back when the master hunter was suddenly directly in front of him, inches away, eyes narrowed.

"Three?" the hunter asked slowly. "There was a third companion?"

"Y-yes," the alderman said, painfully aware that the hunter had backed him up against a lamppost. "A girl...name's Hilda, I think."

The hunter's face went very still for a moment that stretched on for a long time...and then he nodded slowly. "Describe this girl for me, sir."

The alderman did his best to describe what little he had seen of the girl's face, the colour of her hair, and her manner of speaking. As he did so, the hunter seemed more and more pleased, until he was practically shaking with excitement. "...and her accent...posh as yours."

"Oh, this is interesting," the hunter said. "Very interesting indeed. Sir, you have no idea of the significance of the boon you have just granted me. I cannot thank you enough, in fact! Arthur!"

"Boss?" Arthur said from his place by the horses, having prepared to saddle up again.

"Your fastest man, who is he?"

"Morse," Arthur said, indicating one of the other men. He was on the lithe side, riding a sleek-looking horse.

"Morse, my man, can you reach Castle Town in two days?" the hunter asked.

"Sure thing, boss," Morse replied. "What do you need?"

"I need you to carry a message to our...benefactor. I will write it shortly, but first..." He trailed off, turning back to the alderman, who was still backed up against the lamppost. "Well, I usually try to be honest and straightforward in most my dealings. I try to honour all my agreements, with no hidden agendas or sudden reversals, but...unfortunately, you know too much."

Faster than the eye could see, he drew his rapier and raked the blade across the alderman's throat. The man gurgled, fingers grasping at the open slit in his throat as he fell face-first into the mud, next to the severed head of his son.

Ascal was no fool. He'd seen the resemblance between the alderman and the supposed "creature" right away. The Sheikah had too, probably, and refused the contract. But Ascal needed information, and the unfortunate killing of the poor thing had yielded a veritable treasure trove of it. Unfortunately, that treasure trove had just condemned the entire village. Too many knew of the third companion.

"Arthur," he said, quieter than before. Arthur came up to him, barely giving the body at their feet a second glance. "The village knows too much. How long do you need?"

"An hour," Arthur replied right away. "Torch it?"

"Needs to look like a bandit raid."

"Got it."

"Good. Morse!"

The supposedly fastest rider came up as well, with a piece of paper and coal, ready to write. Ascal was momentarily surprised that the man was literate at all. "The message, boss?"

Ascal recited what he needed his young lord to be informed of while Arthur and his men got to work. The screams of the villagers began to fill the air, the smell of smoke permeating the surroundings as the houses were set alight. When he was finished, Morse wasted no time in delicately rolling up the message, putting it in his bag, and climbing into his horse's saddle.

"Do return to us unless the young master requires your aid, Morse," Ascal told him. "This little hunt of ours just got interesting, and I have a feeling we'll need every man we can get."

"I'll catch up in a week at most, boss," Morse promised him.

"Excellent, off you go."

As Morse rode off, Ascal spun the rapier in one hand and drew one of his pistols with the other, his eyes landing on one of the unmolested huts. It had been a while since he'd been part of a purge. He'd need to brush up his skills, now that an entire kingdom was on the line. To think, he'd been hunting a princess all along. The cup had suddenly grown much, _much_ larger…


	17. The Chaser

The fire crackled cheerfully that night, and the warmth was doing wonders to Sheik's mood, which had been foul since leaving that miserable little village behind. For three days, he had barely spoken to his companions, and they had seemingly taken the hint and left him alone save for when absolutely necessary. He appreciated that, but it also made him feel a little guilty...which, in turn, fed his bad mood.

This day, however, had been different. There'd been no rain, and some enterprising soul in the area (possibly the local lord) had taken the liberty of laying some proper cobblestones, which made the road far more pleasant to travel on (as opposed to the muddy seas of the past week). As a result, they were finally making some good time, and he was staring to believe that the undercover visit Zelda had insisted on paying to The Studio _might_ actually go off without a hitch...filicidal aldermen notwithstanding. Zelda would probably deal with _him_ when she returned to the castle anyway...or possibly have her body double deal with him in her stead.

Now, Sheik was warm, he was dry, and he was full. This made him a much happier Sheikah than he'd been in the past few days, and he took the opportunity to speak up. "I am sorry for my behaviour," he said. "For the past few days, I have acted abominably towards the two of you without justification, and—"

"No apologies necessary," Zelda said immediately, her eyes meeting his.

_I know why that upset you so much. He will be dealt with._

Her unspoken words left no room for argument, but he still felt guilty.

"That's right," Link said from his side of the fire, oblivious to the silent conversation between Sheik and the princess. "I'd be angry too."

Sheik gave him a small smile at that. "I don't dare imagine what you would have done in my stead, Link."

"Me neither," the Ordonian replied, shaking his head.

"Not to worry," Zelda continued. "As soon as we reach a settlement with a postal office, I will be issuing a warrant for that man's arrest. A few years in a cell will surely give him a better idea of how to treat his own family."

"Good," Link grunted. "Jail's too good for him, though."

"It'll be a dark cell."

"Anyway," Sheik said, wondering how dark the _conversation_ would get if he didn't change the subject, "since I still feel guilty for the way I've been acting, I will do the dishes tonight. Give them here."

The pots and pans were loaded into his arms by his grateful companions, and he marched down to the small brook by which they'd camped for the night. The water was freezing, making him long for the fireside once more. Scrubbing the dishes thoroughly, he allowed his mind to wander. The predominant thought was how his aunt would react to the sudden presence of a princess within her keep. That would certainly throw it into chaos (which, admittedly, filled him with a small amount of glee), but perhaps that was exactly what the hunters needed after years of falling into complacency. Perhaps it would even inspire some of them to make the much-needed renovations and repairs to the place.

The flustered face of his cousin appeared in his mind. The imagined meeting of Kafei and Zelda was more than amusing, and it caused him to chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

To his relief, Sheik managed to stop himself from visibly jumping at the sudden appearance of Link at his side, but he couldn't contain the sharp inhalation that accompanied it.

"Finally caught you off-guard," the Ordonian said with a grin.

"About time," Sheik murmured, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of slightly burned cheese in the frying pan. "As a hunter, you will need to be stealthy, and—"

"Don't change the subject," Link gently reprimanded him. "I asked you a question."

"I...was just imagining Zelda meeting my cousin," he explained, gritting his teeth when the cheese just wouldn't let go. "He has an...interesting view on royalty."

"How so?"

"He hates the concept, but also finds it infinitely fascinating. It has made for some interesting debates between the hunters from various kingdoms...and he's started more arguments than I can count. That said, he has never _actually_ been in the presence of royalty, so I am quite curious as to how he will react when the princess shows up at the Studio. I can only hope he's not out on a hunt when we arrive." The cheese finally came loose, and the pan was added to the pile of clean dishes. To his surprise, Link began to work on the few remaining pieces, helping him. "Was there something you wanted?" Sheik asked, noticing an unusually pensive look on Link's face.

Link opened his mouth, and then closed it again. This process was repeated several times, before he was finally able to say: "Um...about...us...?"

Sheik nodded slowly. "Us. Yes. I...suppose we never really had a proper discussion, did we? After what happened with Lor, and...and now the princess..."

"Yeah..." Link paused his scrubbing, biting his lip. An unfair tactic, because that only made _Sheik_ want to bite it as well. "So...what...what are we?"

"We are...what we are," Sheik said, feeling utterly ridiculous. "I like you...and you like me..."

"But are we together?" Link muttered. "It doesn't feel like we are."

"It's a bit early to tell." Sheik forced himself to look into the Ordonian's eyes. "We've barely kissed, and that situation was...strange, to say the least. I'm definitely interested in exploring this further, but...with the princess..."

"Oh, absolutely," Link said hurriedly, glancing back towards the fire, where Zelda was reading a book. Sheik could tell even from this distance by its frayed binding which one it was. "I just...wanted some confirmation, you know?"

"I understand," Sheik said with a nod. "There will be plenty of time for that when we arrive at the Studio. You'll be kept busy if they accept you for training, of course, but you will have free time as well. We can use that for... _exploring_..."

There was a distinctly excited look on the Ordonian's face at that, but unfortunately their conversation was cut off as the sound of hooves and the creaking of cartwheels suddenly reached their ears, growing louder by the second.

The dishes forgotten, the two of them immediately got to their feet and ran back to the fire, where Zelda had abandoned her book and drawn a pistol, hiding it by her side. Sheik drew a pistol of his own along with a dagger, while Link went for his steel sword. He didn't draw it, but kept it a firm hand on its grip, prepared to slide it out at a moment's notice.

And then they waited. There was no point in trying to run or hide. Their fire was visible from a great distance, and by the sound of it the driver of the cart had already spotted them. So all they could do was wait and see who had found them, and then decide whether or not to fight. The cart stopped by the road, the driver loudly telling his horse to slow down. He then climbed down, his mail clattering with each step.

"Ho there," he shouted as he climbed down the slight embankment, arms held up in a conciliatory manner. From this distance, Sheik could see that he was wearing a uniform, but he couldn't quite make out the details. "I am looking for a Master Sheik—is he among you?"

"That depends on who is asking," Zelda answered before Sheik could, steeling herself. "Identify yourself!"

"Constable Founder, of the Castle Town Watch," the man, the constable, said as he came within the light of the fire, his tabard proudly emblazoned with the emblem and colours of the city watch. He had been on the road for quite some time, judging by the mud stains and generally dishevelled, unshaven look he sported. "I was told I could find him along this route."

"You're a long way from home, constable," Sheik said, stepping in front of Founder, shielding Zelda from his sight. For all he knew, the man could have stolen the uniform. "May I ask why you are looking for me, and by whom you were told?"

"Forgive me, sir," the constable said, nodding. "I was told by one of your...associates." He put a strange emphasis on the word associate. "Tinn, at the stables."

"I see," Sheik said, immediately starting to wonder why Tinn, of all people, would tell a watch officer where to find him. "And the reason for your...visit?"

"It's not so much a visit as it is a delivery, sir," Founder said, pointing back towards his covered wagon. "A friend of yours...he's been injured. I was told to bring him out here to you. Paid, actually. I'm going to get in a lot of trouble for this, but the money I was offered was too good to pass up."

 _A friend?_ Sheik glanced towards the wagon. "You look tired, constable," he said sweetly. "Why don't you have a seat by our fire, and rest up a little. Link, stay with the officer and keep him company, will you?"

He didn't wait for a response as he reached for his lantern and lit it, already heading towards the road. He climbed the embankment, almost slipping in the grass several times. As he climbed, he heard the constable making a confused noise and say, "Hey...aren't you...?"

"No, you must be thinking of someone else," Zelda replied.

"Your Majesty!"

_Goddesses, another problem to deal with..._

The wagon was as mud-splattered as Founder, the cloth having turned a crusted brown on the road. Finding nothing suspicious in the driver seat, Sheik slowly moved to the back and peeked inside quickly. There was nothing inside save for a person-sized bundle on the floor, covered in blankets. It was moving slightly, and a pained moan emanated from it when Sheik turned up the flame in his lantern, bathing them in bright light.

"I'm up..." a familiar voice said.

Sheik's eyes widened, and without thinking he climbed into the cart, kneeling by their side. "Lor? What the hell are you doing out here?" he asked, pulling at the blankets. "Why would Tinn pay a constable to...drive you...out...here...?"

He trailed off as the blankets came away, revealing a face that, while clearly belonging to Lor, seemed to have been beaten to a pulp. Dark bruises and swollen flesh covered nearly every inch of it, and the inside of the blanket Sheik had pulled away was streaked with dried blood. Gently pulling the blankets further off Lor, he gasped. Every bit of exposed flesh was covered in bruises or cuts of some kind, some leaking pus or still bleeding. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, and his lips split in numerous places. His right leg was curled in on itself, bent at an angle it clearly wasn't supposed to be. Sheik didn't dare what his friend looked like underneath the rough-spun clothing that covered most of him.

"Lor?"

The eye that wasn't nearly shut by a fist-sized bruise blinked in the sharp light, trying to focus but clearly failing. Lor had been sleeping deeply...or passed out completely, which was probably more likely. "Sh...Sheik?" he asked, eye watering. "It's...it's you...I..."

Sheik could only gape as one of his dearest friends began to cry, unsure of what to do. Lor had never cried as long as Sheik had known him, not even after the Blue Vulture...

The rage he'd felt at the Blue Vulture was _nothing_ compared to the one he felt now. Where he had felt a burning, melting anger in the pit of his stomach at the Vulture, he was now feeling a white-hot _rage_ at whoever was responsible for this. Grinding his teeth, he turned his attention back to the camp below the road.

"Constable Founder!" he bellowed, his voice betraying his fury. "You have some explaining to do!"

* * *

"I don't know who did this to him, or why," Founder explained, keeping his eyes averted from the girl who'd turned out to be his monarch. It was quite easy, since Sheik's pistol was trained on him from across the fire. "He wasn't very talkative on our way here—spent most of the time passed out in the back. I did my best to keep his wounds clean, but there are limits to what vodka can do. Had to keep moving, too, since we had to catch up with you."

There was a whimper from the tent, where Link was tending to Lor. Sheik was relieved they'd brought plenty of medical supplies...but it was apparent they wouldn't be enough. At least one of those wounds had been infected, and Sheik knew for a fact that they didn't have the medicines required to deal with _that_. He refocused on Founder, still not satisfied with the explanation. For all he knew, Founder could be working for the ones responsible. Hence the gun pointing at him.

"What did Tinn say?" Sheik asked. "Did he write me a message?"

"There was no time," Founder said, shaking his head. He nursed the warm mug of tea he'd been given, his eyes still on the gun's barrel. "We had to leave right away, he said. Just told me to get him to you, and told me the direction you'd be travelling, and the type of road you'd take. It wasn't easy, finding you. I must have taken a wrong turn at least a dozen times. If I hadn't seen your fire earlier tonight...well, I'd still be floundering out there."

Sheik sighed. The constable was less than useless in providing information, which only further confirmed his idea of the Watch's general crime-solving abilities. Founder didn't seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, either, and the more he spoke the more Sheik was convinced that he wasn't lying or withholding what little information he _did_ have on the situation. "Will you launch an investigation when you get back, though?"

"I will speak to the captain," the constable said. "But...I don't think he'll be too keen on investigating the case. Whor—dealers in rough trade are beaten all the time. Young ones, in particular." He caught himself before he finished calling Lor a whore, which was pointless, really, but somewhat appreciated. "It's considered a...a given, in that trade." He was clearly uncomfortable discussing this in front of the princess. Zelda herself had a steel-like quality on her face, forcing him to continue.

"Beaten?!" Sheik exclaimed. "Does _that_ look like a regular beating to you?! He was fucking _tortured_!"

As if to emphasise his point, Lor gave a sharp cry of pain from within the tent, while Link made soothing noises (sounding ever so slightly panicked).

"You don't think I know that?" Founder said, lips curling. "But the captain won't see it that way! I could argue for hours, but he'd still refuse to look into it!"

"Which captain is this?" Zelda asked quietly, calmly. Too calmly. "What is his name?"

"Tinder, Your Grace," Founder said, bowing his head. "Captain Tinder. Twelfth Ward."

"Thank you, constable," she said, already working on a letter. "I can assure you that Captain Tinder will receive a _very_ stern letter from me on this particular subject. I won't ask you to deliver it to him personally—he won't believe you, and I don't have my seal with me."

"Yes, Your Grace." Founder was immensely relieved by this.

Sheik stared into the fire, his mind trying to figure out why anyone would hurt Lor to such an extent, to the point where he'd be in so much danger he had to leave the city. They'd clearly been after _him_ , if Tinn felt it best to send Lor to him, but _why_? This needed further investigation...but he couldn't do that from here. He looked to the constable. "You said you and Tinn are friends, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell him I want him and the others to look into it. Do something about it if they can, or get the information to me if not."

"Got it."

"And above all, be bloody careful."

"Want me to paraphrase that?"

"No."

"Thank you, constable," Zelda said, giving him a genuine smile. "I do not think I need to tell you how important that my presence here is kept a carefully guarded secret...or am I wrong?"

"Of course not, Your Grace," Founder said, bowing awkwardly in his seat. Sheik's gun was an ever-present threat, naturally, which presumably helped him understand why opening his big mouth about it would be a rather bad idea. "I'm just a copper—I don't presume to know or get involved with the business of royalty."

 _An...unfortunate attitude for a policeman to have,_ Sheik thought to himself. _Even royalty can commit crimes, after all._

"Then I have your word that none will be the wiser as to my true whereabouts?"

"Your Grace, as far as I know you are resting in your winter palace to the west," Founder said gravely. "May a bullet find my head or a blade my throat if I speak of this to anyone."

"I will hold you to that, constable," Sheik said just as gravely, but gave him a small smile soon after. "And thank you for bringing my friend here." As a show of good faith, he holstered his pistol. It put Founder much more at ease, and he chuckled.

"It was nothing," Founder said. "And, like I said, the money helped a lot." He finished his tea and slowly rose to his feet, all too aware of how quickly he'd be dead if he made any sudden, threatening movements. Sheik wasn't much liked in Castle Town, but none doubted a Sheikah's skill when it came to killing. Too many would-be assassins had been terminated by the crimson-eyed warriors for that. "I really should be getting back to Castle Town. I'll get in so much trouble for this...but if it was in the service of the princess herself, it'll be worth it." He bowed once more.

"Are you sure, constable?" Zelda asked, blinking. "There is more than enough room by our fire. It has been a tiring journey, surely you would like to get some rest before heading back?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Your Grace," Founder said. "I dare not intrude upon your campsite any longer—and I feel it's crucial I return Master Sheik's message to Tinn as soon as possible. Your Grace, Master Sheik."

As he climbed the embankment, Sheik studied the constable closely. He really did seem genuine in his words and actions, and Sheik had always considered himself adept at spotting a liar. The very fact that he'd admitted to getting paid by Tinn to transport Lor all the way out here was nothing but a plus in his book. If Founder had claimed to do it out of altruism, Sheik would have shot him then and there for most likely being the person responsible in the first place. No one did anything for free in this world, after all. Especially not coppers.

"I will cite him for a commendation and promotion if his story checks out," Zelda mused, drawing Sheik's quizzical glance. "He could easily have been lying, for all we know," she said with a shrug.

"And yet you trust him with your location?" Sheik asked. "It's not too late, I can eliminate him—"

"No, let us give him a chance to prove himself," the princess said firmly. "Besides, we will be off early tomorrow morning. Surely we can adjust our route to one _he_ doesn't know about, just for extra security?"

"I suppose, but—"

"Sheik." Link had emerged from the tent, looking uncertain. "I need to talk to you."

Sheik took a deep breath and joined him, leaving a worried-looking Zelda at the fire. "What is it?" he asked quietly, noticing how quiet Lor had gone. "Is he...?"

"He passed out again from the pain," Link said, clutching a soiled bandage in his hands. "It's bad, Sheik. He's got a fever, and I'm pretty sure it's from infection. One of the wounds is leaking something fierce—all yellow and thick. His leg...I'm pretty sure it's broken, or at the very least fractured. We could set the leg, but the infection's still going to kill him—we don't have that kind of medicine with us. He needs a doctor, Sheik, and soon."

Sheik closed his eyes and rubbed at them with the knuckles of his right hand, pressing so hard that he started to see fireworks behind his eyelids. "Fuck." he muttered. "How long can he make it, do you think?"

Link shrugged. "No idea—not a doctor or a medic. Just seen a lot of injured animals. But if I had to guess...not long."

 _Nothing ever goes to plan,_ Sheik thought. _So much for the relaxing stroll through the countryside._

"All right," he said. "Can you stay with him a little longer? I need to discuss this with Zelda."

"Sure," Link said. He reached out and moved Sheik's hand from his eyes, gently kissing it. "We'll save him, don't worry."

It was a touching gesture, and Sheik felt immensely calmed by it. Link was worried, true, but he was also confident. Far more confident than he had any right to be, but that was Link in a nutshell, really. "I know," Sheik said, smiling. Returning to Zelda, he let the smile fade and looked to her with utmost seriousness. "Change of plans," he said.

"I expected as much," Zelda said, nodding. "Where are we heading?"

Retrieving a map of Hyrule and its surrounding areas from his pack, Sheik unfurled it and moved to sit next to her, pointing at a point close to the eastern border. "We are here," he said. "In a day or two at our current pace, we would have crossed the border into Termina and turned north towards the glacial passes."

"I see," the princess acknowledged.

"Lor is in bad shape," Sheik continued. "His wounds are infected, and his leg needs to be seen to by a professional. In short, he needs a doctor. I am not familiar enough with the countryside around these parts to know if there are any physicians with the skills necessary to save him. Neither do I know the Terminan countryside all that well...which leaves us with only one option—the one place where I know for _certain_ there will be someone skilled enough to help him."

"Name the place, Sheiky," Zelda said, paying no mind to the inevitable delay this would bring to their journey.

"Clock Town," Sheik said, pointing to one of the largest dots in the Terminan part of the map. "Former capital of the kingdom."

"Undoubtedly the home of many a fine physician," Zelda said, nodding. "How soon can we be there?"

"A few days, if we hurry...and I fear we have very little time to waste. If you wish, I can ride on ahead with Lor, while you and Link—"

"Absolutely not," she said, glaring at him. "We're all in this together. We can take turns with him in our saddles."

"Are you sure—"

"He looked light enough. I won't mind, and nor will Link, I imagine." When Sheik didn't stop staring at her, she narrowed her eyes. "He is a subject, and therefore precious to me. If I will not _stoop_ to help him, then why should I help anyone else? We can leave right now, if you want."

"That's what I had in mind," Sheik said as he looked up at the moon. It was waning, but still quite bright. "The moon will light our way."

"There's several other large towns on our way to Clock Town," the princess said, her attention returned to the map. "Surely one of them will have a doctor or two?"

"Possibly," Sheik admitted. "But I don't trust a stranger to handle Lor."

"Stranger?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You know someone in Clock Town?"

"Yes. Possibly the only doctor I would ever entrust my own life to, in fact...and already have."

Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her. "You mean... _her_?"

He nodded. "Yes. She won't be thrilled to see me, but Doctor Kaura is the only physician I trust with this. Do _you_ trust _me_?"

"That is the dumbest question you have ever asked me, Sheik, and that says a lot," she scoffed, punching his shoulder with surprising force. "Of course I do."

"Then we should get a move on immediately. I'll prepare the horses, you and Link can take down the tent and prepare Lor for the journey. He won't be happy about it."

"I'm certain we can convince him of the importance," the princess said. "We'll be ready in a moment."

"Zelda?"

"Yes, Sheik?"

"...thank you."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Anything for you, little brother...and the stories I will learn from Lor."

"You're wicked," he said, flushing at the possibility of her learning _everything_ he had been up to outside of her watchful gaze.

"The _most_ wicked," she corrected him, winking.

They were off less than half an hour later, the smouldering remains of their campfire still smoking heavily. They'd taken less care to cover up their tracks this time, but time was of the essence...and by now, Sheik surmised, their trail would be too erratic to follow anyway. Every impact of Maladict's hooves jarred Lor's wounds, and even while passed out he made pained noises as Sheik did his best to keep him steady in the saddle in front of him.

"Just a few more days," Sheik said into Lor's ear. "Just a few more days."


	18. The Examination

The rain had begun to fall again by the time they crossed the border, entering the peaceful lands of Termina at a full gallop. Thanks to the friendly terms between the two realms that had lasted for three centuries at this point, there were no forts or stations to go through. Trade and goods flowed freely across the border, which was a bit of a double-edged sword. It certainly afforded a greater sense of freedom for the citizens of both nations, and encouraged merchants to travel between the two...but security-wise it was a nightmare. Termina might not be interested in attacking or undermining Hyrule, or vice-versa, but any other nation could easily take advantage of the unsecured borders.

Of course, any thought of this had been firmly crushed by Sheik's desperate need to get Lor to safety, so he made no mention of it when they actually crossed into Termina, heading full speed towards Clock Town.

They reached the city's massive gates just in time at dusk, minutes before they were shut for the night. There were no security checks here either, though Sheik knew from experience that the local watchmen were far from lax when on duty. He knew they were closely watched from the moment they set foot in the city, but he could only hope that they wouldn't raise _that_ much suspicion...

It didn't take long to find the clinic—Sheik remembered the description he'd been given a few years before and managed to navigate them to the right district, and a helpful street vendor pointed them to the correct street. He was greatly relieved when he saw the sign, brightly lit by the gas lanterns that lined the flagstoned lane.

**High Street Clinic**

The name was written in elegant script, and the street itself was in one of the more luxurious parts of the city, with a clear view of the gigantic clock tower that dominated the skyline. The rest of the houses on this street seemed to be residential in nature, and Sheik wondered how much it cost to keep a clinic open in a place like this. There was something written beneath the place's name on the sign, in a much smaller script, practically invisible:

_**Credit offered** _

Apparently not very much, if the place could afford that. Sheik shrugged, realising he was wasting time. He slid out of his saddle and landed with shaky legs on the flagstones. They'd been riding continually for at least two days, trying to waste as little time as possible on their way to Clock Town. They'd actually made rather excellent time, though it had worn at their comfort, patience, and buttocks. Sheik would definitely be declining any seats for the time being, as would Link and Zelda, he imagined.

Lor, on the other hand... He'd spent much of the time completely passed out, which was a bit of a mercy for everyone involved. He helped Link lift Lor from Epona's saddle and settled him in the Ordonian's arms. Zelda had already climbed the stairs, and was hammering wildly on the locked door. They'd been too late—the clinic was closed. There were still light in one of the first floor windows, however, which meant that _someone_ was there.

"Hello?!" Zelda called. "We need help! Our friend is injured! Please let us in!"

She continued to hammer on the door for several minutes, only stopping when Sheik touched her shoulder gently. "Give them some time, yeah?" he said. "Don't want them to turn us away on the basis of making too much of a ruckus."

"Just wanted to make sure they heard us," the princess said, frowning. She looked as exhausted as Sheik felt, and he was certain he himself did not look much better. Link...well, Link looked rather fresh despite having only slept for a few minutes at a time in his saddle. It was a wonder the horses had held out, too.

"The neighbours sure did," Link noted, nodding jovially at an old woman whose head had just poked out of a second floor window next door, glaring daggers at them. "Evenin', ma'am," he greeted.

"Do you mind?" she screeched, her voice like gravel. " _Some_ of us are trying to sleep! The clinic's closed! Take your noisy selves somewhere else!"

"Very sorry, ma'am," Link replied, adjusting his hold on Lor, who was mostly covered with the blanket from Founder's cart. "We're new in town, and we only knew about this place, so—"

"Do I look like I care, country boy?!" she screamed. "Be quiet and go away!"

"There is no need to be unreasonable—"Link began, but there was a loud click as a heavy bolt clicked from the within the clinic, and the door slid open with a loud creak.

For a moment, all they could see was the dark interior of the clinic's entrance, until someone cleared their throat, drawing their gazes downwards. The boy who'd opened the door looked to be around ten, rather on the scrawny side. His skin was light brown, like that of a Gerudo, but his eyes were a startlingly light shade of green that shone in the gaslight. His black hair was shoulder-length and tied back in a utilitarian way with what seemed to be a simple piece of string. His arms were crossed over what seemed to be a miniature version of a physician's white coat, which was still slightly too big on him. A bare foot was tapping impatiently on the floor, looking expectantly at them.

"Go away!" the neighbour screeched again, and the boy turned his attention to her. They locked eyes for a moment, and the woman glared. He gave her a loud hiss, which apparently startled her enough to withdraw from the spectacle entirely, slamming her window shut. The boy then looked back at the quartet, giving them the same impatient look.

"Uh..." Link hesitated, not expecting to be greeted like a child. "Are...you a doctor?"

Sheik wasn't sure if he was being serious or not, but now was not the time to delve into Link's knowledge of the medical world, or lack thereof. "We need help," he told the boy, hoping that getting to the point would be a...well, a point in their favour. "Our friend," he continued, pulling on the blanket to reveal Lor's unconscious face, "has been injured, and his wounds are infected. We don't have the equipment, medicine, or training to treat him ourselves. Please, is Doctor Kaura here?"

The boy slowly nodded, but looked hesitant about letting them in. After studying them for a long moment, paying extra attention to Sheik, he stepped forward and indicated for Link to bend down, which the Ordonian did. The boy gently touched Lor's forehead, paying no heed to the rain, which was getting worse by the minute. His eyes widened in response to the intensity of the fever Sheik knew Lor was suffering at the moment, and he quickly ran inside the clinic. There was a rope just beyond the door, tied off at his height, which he pulled at immediately. Somewhere inside the clinic, a loud bell started ringing.

The effect was immediate, as another one of the clinic's first floor windows lit up, and a loud groan could be heard. "Eugh, what is it _now_?!" demanded a voice.

Sheik swallowed heavily. He knew that voice, knew it all too well. It had been years since he'd last heard it, and it _still_ struck fear into his heart.

There was a loud of crash as something fragile-sounding hit the floor. "Shit! That was my favourite!" the voice cried. "I swear, Tao, if this is another false alarm I'm sending you right back where you came from! Wherever the hell _that_ is!"

The boy (Tao, apparently) rolled his eyes and motioned the four of them inside, shutting and locking the door behind them. He then urged them further into the building, towards a door with a brass sign attached to it.

**Examination Room**

The room seemed clean and sterile, with a large bench in the centre. Various shelves and counters lined the walls, filled with fluids and instruments of every kind. The floor was tiled and ever so slightly sloped towards a drain by the wall—evidence of the room being used for more than just examinations. There were no windows, but Tao quickly flicked a switch on the wall, lighting several gas lanterns mounted in glass bulbs in the room's upper corners. It was a cold light, but definitely bright. It made Sheik's eyes sting, though that could easily be because of how tired he was.

Link carefully laid Lor on the bench, gently adjusting the small pillow to support his head. Lor was shivering, despite how hot his fever was running and the amount of blankets he was covered by. Tao clicked his tongue and began to take down bottles of medicine and tools from the shelves, laying them out in preparation. By now, footsteps could be heard descending a set of stairs somewhere in the one made Sheik's heart plummet a little further.

_Please, don't let her be in a foul mood..._

Of course, that was a futile wish.

"You're in my way, girl."

Zelda looked quite peeved as she practically _leapt_ inside the room in an effort to get out of the doctor's way, having stopped there to take in the details of the room.

"Right, let's see what was important enough to wake me up..."

Sheik took an involuntary step back when her bespectacled eyes landed on him first, as if she'd _sensed_ his presence. It was difficult to tell what sort of emotions she felt at that moment—that perpetual look of annoyance had not changed at all since he'd last seen it, and it remained fixed as she gave him a quick look up and down after the first brief moment of recognition. Goddesses, even the tight bun she kept her purple (dyed?) hair in was the same. Her slim figure was covered by her white coat, which made her look very authoritative...though in Sheik's experience, she'd never needed anything but her razor-sharp tongue to establish herself as a person to be feared and respected.

"Hmph, got yourself stabbed again, did you?" Doctor Kaura asked, as she'd expected him to show up in her examination room someday. It was a facetious question; her attention was almost immediately grabbed by the bundle of blankets that was Lor on her bench. "Right—you, Hylian, step aside."

Link did as he was told immediately, recognising that Kaura was not a person to disobey lest he wanted to leave the building with his dignity intact. It was almost comical, how quickly the physician had cowed the Ordonian and—hilariously enough—the princess of Hyrule. If Kaura knew who she was, she did not show any signs that she did.

Kaura, contrary to her tone, was very careful as she removed the blankets to reveal Lor's body and the various cuts, bruises and other injuries that dotted his skin. Her eyes widened a fraction as she took it all in, touching his forehead. "Tao," she said, removing one of the clumsy bandages that had been applied by the constable on the road and glaring at the obviously infected wound, "prepare the antibiotics. Two syringes, to start with."

Tao immediately prepared two injections, while Kaura's eyes roamed the room once more, landing on Zelda. "You, girl."

"Y-Yes?" Zelda asked, nervous. She probably hoped to become part of the wall rather than be addressed directly by the intimidating physician again.

"Do you see the big bottle behind me? Marked with a skull?"

"Yes," Zelda repeated, eyeing the large bottle.

"It contains the strongest anti-septic fluid I have," Kaura continued, her eyes returning to Lor's ruined form. "Wash your hands with it, and then start cleaning the wounds that aren't leaking pus. Be careful, mind—you don't want to risk even more of these getting infected."

"Is there anything I can—"Sheik began, but Kaura shook her head.

"No, two assistants are more than enough. Any more and you'll just get in the way. Just stay in the corner."

Sheik nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the tiled wall. Kaura was furious. It wasn't immediately apparent on her face, but he heard it in her voice. A slight tremble. The same he'd heard when the she'd told him how the villagers in Kaerwall had been more than happy to leave him to die with a pair of dagger wounds in his back. He could only hope that the anger wasn't directed at _him_.

Tao finished preparing the injections and brought them to Kaura, who immediately plunged the needles into Lor's arm, one after the other. "Help the girl with the cleaning," she told the boy.

The examination room fell silent for a few minutes as Zelda and Tao went about their task while Kaura continued to give Lor a careful examination. She cut away his filthy rags with a sharp-looking pair of scissors, and gave the rest of him as thorough an examination as Sheik could imagine. Zelda did not seem bothered by having Lor completely exposed to her like this—presumably she was too busy trying not to disappoint Kaura so she wouldn't get yelled at again.

"He's lucky," Kaura said after looking carefully at Lor's leg. "A fracture, not a complete break. Should heal just fine if he keeps weight off it...and survives the infection, that is."

"Will he?" Sheik couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Hopefully," Kaura said gravely. "I cannot give any guarantees, though. The infection's weakened him, and the fever...well, let's just say the antibiotics can't work miracles. A great deal of it will be up to him." She moved on, examining Lor's more...intimate parts. "He's been raped," she announced matter-of-factly. "Repeatedly. I assume this isn't your doing...?"

"Of course not!" Sheik spat. "What do you take me for?! He's my friend!"

"Then why have you waited so long to bring him to a doctor?" Kaura asked. "These wounds are at least a week old, the infection's been raging for a while. If this is how you help your friends—"

"We didn't know about it," Link said, feeling that he should come to Sheik's defence. "We were on the road, and a constable brought him to us like this. We've ridden for two days straight to get him to you!"

"Surely there were other doctors than me?"

"You're the only one I knew about in Termina," Sheik said, feeling like he was about to pass out. The last two days had really done a number on him. On all of them, really. "The only one I trust. Please...yell at me all you like later, but for now just...save him. Please."

"Of course I'm going to save him, you stupid boy," Kaura said, looking insulted. "What do _you_ take _me_ for? Some second-rate field surgeon whose only practical purpose is pumping someone full of morphine until they die? Honestly...oh, and speaking of—Tao, give the lad some morphine, will you? He's sleeping now, but what I'm about to do to him would wake the dead."

It may only have suffered a fracture, but Lor's leg still needed to be straightened out so it would heal properly. Kaura waited for Tao to bring her another syringe, this one full of morphine. She injected it, and waited a few seconds before carefully shoving Zelda out of the way. "He'll likely flail about," she explained to the princess. "Stand back. You two, make yourselves useful. Hold him down."

It felt good to actually be of some use, even if only as muscle. Sheik and Link both stood on either side of the bench, placing their hands on Lor's shoulders and arms.

"Ready?"

They nodded.

"Right, here we go."

Wherever Lor had been, a pleasant dream or a nightmare, he was certainly pulled out of it just as his leg was straightened by Kaura. His eyes slammed open, focused on nothing, and an agonised scream tore from his throat and echoed in the examination room, hurting Sheik's ears. His whole body went stiff for a brief moment, and then he began to struggle, desperate to get away from the hands that were causing him so much pain. He found his escape halted by two pairs of strong hands holding him down, which he still tried to fight against, unintelligible words pouring from his mouth.

"Hold him!" Kaura snarled. "He'll make his leg even worse!"

For such a small creature, Lor was surprisingly strong. He was nearly pushing Sheik away, and Link was nearly on his heels. Sheik clenched his jaw and leaned down, hoping that hearing his voice would help calm him. "Lor, it's me, Sheik," he said firmly. "You're safe—hear me? You're not in danger. I know it hurts, but we're trying to help you—your leg's broken and we need to fix it."

It had little effect, if any. His screams continued unabated, bouncing off the tiles and creating a cacophony of _noise_ that tore at Sheik's ears and nerves.

"Lor! Please calm down! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Tao!" Kaura cried.

A small blur appeared at his side, and suddenly there was another needle in Lor's arm. The effect was nearly instantaneous—Lor's body went slack, he stopped screaming, and his eyes slowly closed until he was breathing gently...or as gently as he could in his current fevered state.

"What did you do to him?" Link asked, looking as if he was afraid Lor would suddenly explode into violent movement again.

"Just gave him a stronger painkiller, something to help him sleep," Kaura said. "Made from coca leaves. You can step away, now. I'll need to splint his legs. Girl, go over his wounds once more. Tao, prepare a scalpel, and some needle and thread."

There was a long half hour as Kaura opened up several closed wounds and gave them a thorough wash of her own, before sewing them shut and bandaging them thoroughly. She splinted Lor's leg to keep it immobilised while it healed. She also administered several more rounds of antibiotics and other medicines. Sheik had seated himself in the corner, supervising it all, but he must have nodded off at some point. He closed his eyes to Kaura, Tao, and Zelda hard at work...and woke up to Kaura cleaning her equipment. Lor was asleep on the bench, his modesty covered by a clean-looking sheet and blanket. The other three were nowhere to be seen.

"They're in the sitting room," Kaura said, not looking up from her work. "Tao's feeding them. You look famished."

"Two days in the saddle," Sheik grunted, standing up. There were pins and needles in his legs, but he ignored them. "I suppose you have some questions."

"I do," she said with a nod. "The ones responsible for this...I assume they've been punished?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know who they are." Sheik hobbled over to stand above Lor, reaching to carefully trace the tattoo on his cheek, careful not to jostle any bruises or cuts. "He was brought to me like this...and the constable had no idea. He'd simply been paid by a...an associate of mine to get him out of Castle Town. Believe me, if I knew who they were...I wouldn't be here, having this conversation with you. I'd be..." He let out a breathy sigh. "Will he live?" he asked, wanting a straight answer.

"I've done everything I can for him," Kaura said, giving nothing but the honest truth in return. "I've given him enough antibiotics for an army, cleaned his wounds to the best of my ability, set his leg...I'll be monitoring him closely. If his fever breaks within the next few hours, he'll live. Possibly. But there's no point in fretting—that will only exhaust you." She glanced at Sheik over the rim of her spectacles. "His tattoo...slave?"

"Former," Sheik corrected her. "I don't know the full story, but he wound up in Castle Town. He's a prostitute, before you ask."

"Hm."

"And no, I don't think this is the work of an angry client. He's been beaten before, but this...this was torture. You can tell by the cuts. They're too neat to have been anything but purposeful, and meant to cause as much pain as possible." He pointed at one of the stitched and bandaged wounds criss-crossing Lor's chest for emphasis, pulling the blanket higher to cover them up. "I can't help but wonder if they did this in order to get to me...but until I can actually ask him, I have no idea."

"Not that it's any of my business, kid, but what could you possibly have done to piss someone off to such an extent?" Kaura finished cleaning the last instrument and carefully put it back in its marked place on a shelf. "I mean...do you think it's connected to Kaerwall?"

"I don't know, possibly?" Sheik felt helpless at that moment, staring down at his best friend. "I haven't really done anything lately that could have..." The idea struck him immediately.

_Surely not...Ordon?_

"I...did stop a slaver group from taking the children of a village in Hyrule to the southern markets," he said slowly. "Link and I, I mean. We did it together. But...slaver groups aren't usually organised enough for this kind of...retaliation. At the best of times they're one argument away from killing each other. They managed to track me as far as Castle Town, and identified a friend, but...no..." He shook his head. The exhaustion had caught up with him, and he was unable to think straight. "Sorry, I'm not in the best mind-set at the moment."

"Understandable," Kaura said, heading for the door. "Come on, I'm sure there'll be a sandwich or two left for you. We can discuss payment in the morning."

It took Sheik a moment to catch up with that.

_Payment? Shit..._

* * *

Ascal watched the carriage burn as Art and his men pushed it over the ledge, sending it crashing into the ravine below. The fire would take care of the constable's remains.

"You _did_ remove the watchman's badge, yes?" he asked Art, just in case. The man flashed him the copper badge, the only thing that could have identified the constable's remains after a fire like the one that was currently consuming his body far below. "Good. Get rid of it far away from here. No one needs to know this man was a constable. For all they knew, he was a drunken cart driver who went over the edge on this very steep road...and broke his lantern, poor thing."

"Boss."

"Hm?"

Art touched the corners of his mouth, clearing his throat. Ascal caught on a moment later, wiping his own. "Ah, yes, thank you."

"Didn't know much," Art said, looking down at the burning wreckage.

"True," Ascal agreed. "A rather clueless and sad example of our police force, that one...but at least he could give us a name. And we know for a fact he was transporting dear little Lorasi."

"The Sheikah..."

"Termina is a big place, Art, and undoubtedly where he would bring Lorasi for treatment, if I know his type correctly. I am not familiar enough with the territory to mount an effective chase." He gave the man a grin. "Do you have another fast rider among your men, by any chance?"

"Probably. The name?" To his credit, Art caught on very quick to what Ascal was thinking.

"Yes. Hopefully, it won't take the master long to find this Tinn person, whoever he is. From there, he can unravel the Sheikah's network. He'll rue the day he ever crossed Lord Camdessus."

"And us?"

Ascal shrugged. "As I said, Termina is too big a place to start searching. We will simply skip ahead. They're heading for the Studio—and I know exactly which route they'll take. We'll go on ahead and prepare a little...surprise for them."


	19. The Workshop

It took Link a good minute or so to realise where he was when a peel of bells from the massive clock tower in the centre of Clock Town jolted him awake. He rubbed his bleary eyes and grunted when his back gave a painful twinge upon sitting up—a result of two days of constant riding and then spending the night on one of the sitting room sofas. They were delightful to sit in, but given how his spine seemed to have tried to tie itself into a knot in his sleep, he would gladly have taken the floor instead. He looked around him, noting that he was alone. Sheik had slept in the other sofa, but he had apparently woken up before Link, his blanket neatly folded and left on the cushion.

Zelda had spent the night in the clinic's guest room, while Kaura and Tao had retreated to their respective rooms. Link supposed they were lucky they'd been allowed to spend the night at all. Epona, Maladict and Mera had been taken behind the clinic and given shelter in the cramped tool shed—though it was better than leaving the poor creatures out in the rain...which was still falling outside, Link noticed.

He allowed himself a few minutes to wake properly and contemplate the turns his life had taken over the past few weeks. To him, it was a wonder he'd kept going for so long. He was sure he'd never be able to move on after Ordon, after his parents...but here he was, in Termina, on a short stop on his road to become a hunter. Or, to be tested to become a hunter, at least. He wondered if it was _because_ of this that he hadn't fallen apart yet, or if it was simply the lessons his father had taught him over the years finally sinking in, that getting bogged down in tragedies would be of no help to anyone, and that the only right thing to do was to keep moving, to keep fighting.

He yawned. It felt a bit rude to do so while thinking about his father's words, but...it was too early in the morning for such thoughts. A glance out the window and at the giant clock told him it was just past seven. Later than he'd usually get up on the farm, but living in the city with Sheik and Lor for a while had spoiled him when it came to the magical concept of snoozing...

The smell of bacon and eggs was wafting through the clinic, and his stomach immediately gave a loud growl at the mouth-watering scent. He left the sitting room, his bare feet barely making a sound on the carpet. The residential part of the clinic wasn't as sterile and bare as the clinic itself, but Link couldn't help but notice that the place didn't seem that "lived in". All the regular furnishings were there, but they seemed unused and untouched. There were no pictures on the walls, no personal knick-knacks that revealed small details about the person who lived there. Maybe this Doctor Kaura was simply a very private person?

He found Zelda and Tao in the kitchen, tucking into their respective breakfasts at the surprisingly large, round table that dominated the little space that wasn't occupied by the stove and counters. The princess smiled upon spotting him. "Link, good morning," she said, gesturing to the empty seat to her left, which faced Tao. "I hope you're hungry—Tao has made enough food for an army."

Link's rebellious stomach gave another embarrassingly loud growl, and he couldn't help but blush. He was in the presence of royalty, after all. "I guess that answers your question, Hilda," he said, just barely remembering to use the princess' false name. They may have been among people Sheik trusted, but that didn't mean it was a good idea to loudly announce just who they were travelling with.

"It does indeed," she replied, giggling slightly.

Link barely had time to sit down before he found his plate laden with a mix of eggs, bacon, and beans so heavy his heart skipped a beat. Tao seemed quite eager to show off his skills in the kitchen to the new visitors, and he gave Link a look of anticipation as he waited for the Ordonian to have his first bite. To Link's chagrin, Zelda joined in, staring intently as he slowly lifted a forkful to his mouth. The moment the salty taste of bacon, accompanied by the eggs and beans, hit his tongue he made a noise that could only be described as...well, something someone as young as Tao shouldn't be familiar with.

Whereas the food they'd brought with them on the road had certainly been healthy, it had been rather bland in taste. Tao's cooking was probably the most flavourful he'd had since...since Ordon, really. And gods damn it, he was going to enjoy it!

"This is delicious!" he exclaimed, taking three more enormous bites. "Tao, you are a food wizard!"

The boy grinned and nodded his thanks, returning to his own meal. Zelda giggled once more and finished her portion, already helping herself to a second portion.

"So, did you sleep well?" the princess asked, breaking the silence that was otherwise occupied by chewing and the sound of cutlery scraping against plates.

"Like a log," Link said, wincing as he stretched a bit. "But I wish I'd taken the floor instead. My back's all...crooked today. And you?"

"Rather heavily, I'll admit," she replied. "I may even have snored."

Tao nodded at this, cupping his ear. The princess' face fell.

"I know the guest room is adjacent to yours, but surely I did not snore _that_ loudly?"

Tao nodded again, miming being asleep and then suddenly being woken by a loud noise. Zelda looked horrified, and Link couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Now you know what we've had to deal with on the road," he told Tao, giving him a conspiratorial wink. "And we share a tent; no walls to protect us from _that_ sawmill. Sheik's taken to sleeping with cheese in his ears to—"

"That's enough, Link," Zelda said dangerously, blushing heavily. "No need to bore the poor lad."

Tao shook his head and looked at Link with wide eyes, clearly eager to hear more. How could he say no to that? But then he realised he'd forgotten himself, and looked at Zelda. "Where _is_ Sheik, anyway?"

"He went with Doctor Kaura after eating—"Zelda began, but a door opened and closed, a set of footsteps rapidly approaching the kitchen. The tall, slender physician appeared in the doorway, much like the night before. Even now she looked intimidating, taking in the sight of her guests. She had a scar on her right cheek, Link noticed. He hadn't seen it the night before. It was quite faint, but prominent in the right lighting.

"Ah, you're awake," she said. "Good. Saves me the trouble of toppling you out of my sofa. You'll be happy to know your friend is going to pull through."

Link straightened, his smile widening. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes," Kaura said, striding forward and seating herself at the table. She did not eat, but poured herself a large cup of tea. "His fever broke in the night, and has gone down since I checked at four in the morning. If he's careful with that leg of his, it should heal just fine as well...or so I hope. The prognosis is good for now, at least...physically, that is. Mentally, I cannot say."

"He is still asleep?" Zelda asked. She too was relieved Lor was going to be all right, if only because she knew how devastated Sheik would be if he'd died.

"I am keeping him asleep, yes," Kaura said. "The boy needs rest, and given the trauma I can only imagine he's gone through he will find little of that in a waking state, much less in his dreams. So, I plan on keeping him asleep for at least one more day. Then we will see."

"Thank you," Link said. "Really. Without you, I don't know what we would...what could have..."

"Most likely you'd be digging a grave by the side of the road within the next few days," Kaura muttered, sipping at her tea. Her tone wasn't mean or angry—just factual. "As I said, you got him to me just in time to fight off the infection. One more day and it would have been too late. So...well done on that." She took another sip. "This is good, Tao. The import?"

Tao nodded.

"Remind me to add it to the list of purchases next week."

"Excuse me, doctor," Link said after a few minutes of silence. "Where is Sheik? Hilda told me he went with you, but..."

"He went out after we checked on Lorasi," Kaura said, finally deigning to serve herself some breakfast, scooping a small portion onto her plate. "Said something about finding a workshop. Hunter business, apparently. None of mine, so I didn't ask." She fixed Link with a look. "Apparently, you're not one? Given your little arsenal, I was surprised."

"I'm not a hunter, no," Link admitted. "Not yet, at least."

"A future one, then," Kaura said with a nod. "I see. Explains the direction you were heading in before taking the detour into Termina." She looked at Zelda. "And you..."

"My name is Hilda, and I'm—"

"The princess of Hyrule."

Kaura clearly took delight in the three pairs of eyes that bugged out at her casual tone as she said it, grinning like a mischievous cat. Zelda sputtered, while Link wondered if they'd been caught in some sort of ambush. Tao simply looked at Zelda with awe (and a small blush on his cheeks).

"H-How...did you know?" Zelda asked, finding her voice after a few false starts.

"I've seen your photograph," Kaura said, shrugging. "I'll admit, the spectacles threw me off for a moment, but you have a very recognisable face. The shape of your eyes, for instance. Your grace," she added after a moment, almost sounding sarcastic. "I had my suspicions last night, but what finally made it fall into place was your accent, as well as your manners. Far too refined for someone who'd usually travel with a hunter and a...farmer, I assume? Again, based on your accent." She gave Link a questioning glance, smiling slightly when the Ordonian nodded. "Not to mention the way the Sheikah kept a close eye on you, even while his friend lay on the operating table. He mentioned being your bodyguard on occasion when he was recovering in Kaerwall. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

"I have yet to thank you for that, doctor," Zelda said, deciding that there was no point in bothering with the (admittedly) poor charade any longer. "Without you, Sheik would have died in that miserable pit of a village. If there is anything I can ever do to repay you, do not hesitate to let me know. The Crown is in your debt."

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell you if I think of something, your grace," Kaura said, regarding the princess with eyes akin to a predator. "I must admit, I'm rather curious as to what the monarch of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world is doing on the road with only her former bodyguard and a future hunter for protection..."

"I...have some business to attend to at the hunters' headquarters," Zelda admitted, looking down at the table, unsure of how much she should share. "And my visit needs to remain a secret."

"Hm...dangerous, that. Plenty of perils along the road. Is it really a risk you should be taking?"

"I believe it is," Zelda said, albeit after a moment of hesitation.

"Fair enough," Kaura replied. "Like with the hunter, yours is no business of mine. I assume you've got safeguards in place anyway, should something untoward happen. Wouldn't do to leave your realm high and dry, after all."

"The realm is in good hands." Zelda looked more unsure than she sounded. "I trust my council, guided by my double."

Kaura's eyes glinted. "Hmph, I've heard stories about this council..."

"Anyway," Link said abruptly, hoping that he was averting a potential fight. "May we see Lor? I think it'll calm us down a bit."

"You know where he is," Kaura said offhandedly, gesturing in the vague direction of her examination room. "Just don't jostle him. He may be asleep, but it won't do his wounds any good to be moving at the moment."

"We won't," Link said firmly, looking pointedly at the princess. "Come on, Hilda."

"Zelda, surely?" Kaura said innocently. "Or are we still sticking to the dreadful pseudonym?"

"Zelda," Link repeated, not sure if he liked this woman anymore. He'd been eternally grateful to her for saving Lor, but her personality was abrasive in a manner he had rarely encountered before.

The princess rose from her seat and followed him out of the kitchen, leaving the physician and her assistant alone. Kaura eyed Tao, whose gaze had not left the princess since the revelation and looked faintly disappointed at her departure.

"Don't get any ideas," she warned him. "These royal types...far too high and mighty to notice the likes of us. She'll forget us the minute she sets foot outside the city again. Besides, I thought you liked it here?"

Tao nodded slowly, looking guilty.

"You'll be a doctor too, someday, and a damn fine one. Don't let a random princess appearing in our kitchen distract you from that goal." She reached out and patted his shoulder before helping herself to a piece of bacon. "Or you can become a cook, should your studies fall through." She chuckled at his offended look. "Just joking. Now, what should we charge our red-eyed friend for the events of last night?"

* * *

Sheik gazed at the large clock tower that dominated the centre of the city, cursing under his breath. This was taking far longer than he'd thought it would. He'd only had a vague idea about the location, but he hadn't expected the signs to be _this_ difficult to find. Hiding in plain sight—that was the key to the hunter's continued existence, but this was ridiculous.

He went back to his starting point, the square directly in front of the tower. It could not be more central or crowded. This was the commercial hub of all of Termina, where the merchants brought their wares from all over the world. The square alone could hold a several thousand spectators alone. He let his eyes roam the surrounding buildings. Most were made from stone and brick, a few of them wooden (remains of medieval times, likely). The ground was covered in white and black flagstones, forming a chessboard pattern. Sheik followed the pattern in each compass direction until he reached a wall or the side of a building. South, west and north yielded nothing. Going west (and clearing away some abandoned planks and other rubbish leaning against the stone wall there) finally revealed something.

To a passer-by, it would simply look like a random set of scratches in the bricks—the usual sort of wear and tear that very few could be arsed to fix up. To a hunter, however, there was a pattern to it. If one paid close attention and slightly squinted, one could fill in the pattern and reveal numbers and letters. Of course, the numbers and letters were written in code, so even if a random person noticed them, they would not be able to read them. Sheik, however, knew the code, and he smiled beneath his collar as he read the instructions. They pointed in a specific direction for a specific distance.

Several blocks away, he found the next mark, which pointed him to the southern ward, near the river. Here, the sign was scratched into the base of an old bronze statue, green from corrosion. The air down here smelled foul, surely because of the collective filth from the city that was continually poured into the nearly stagnant river (whether it was from the sewage or just the natural flow was up to the historians). Thankfully, the next sign pointed him north-east, to a group of older buildings by the city wall.

To call the place a slum would be an insult to slums everywhere (though still a compliment to the Shades back in Castle Town). The buildings themselves were bad enough, looking like they were about to collapse in on themselves at any moment, but the people...the wretched kind with no hope and nowhere else to go. The kind that congregated in the streets around places like the Temple or his office.

 _The perfect place for a workshop_ , he thought.

He felt a little guilty for not bringing Link, but the Ordonian wasn't a hunter yet, and could not know about this particular secret...for now, at least.

There was a workshop in every major city in every realm that hadn't expelled the hunters. They were gathering points for the region's hunters, and where they could create, modify, and repair the equipment with which they did not trust _regular_ craftsmen. Given how secretive most hunters were with their custom weaponry, very few _did_ trust other craftsmen with it, much less other _hunters_.

He found the door quickly enough. It looked like any other door in this place—half-rotten and about to fall off its hinges. It fit perfectly in with the rest of the scenery...a bit _too_ perfectly, if he was honest. And if anyone tried to knock it down, they would find themselves with several broken toes as the portal refused to budge.

The keyhole looked normal, but Sheik knew the internal mechanism was anything but. He retrieved the intricate key that all hunters carried from the inner breast pocket of his coat and used it. There was a complicated, metallic sound as the three separate locks were opened, and their bolts moved aside, unlocking the door.

It gave a thoroughly convincing creak when he pushed it open, revealing a small antechamber with another door, which had a surprisingly intact glass window set in it. The glass was etched with acid, making it impossible to see through. He closed the first door behind him. It made another mechanical noise as it automatically locked itself again. Another security measure. He then lit his spherical oil lamp, and reached for the knob of the second door, turning it. The door wasn't locked, but there was a strange and unexpected resistance when he tried to pull it open that made him pause immediately. Crouching down and moving to the right, he pulled until there was a slight crack he could see through. The room beyond was dark, but he could see the wire attached to the knob on the other side, stretching off into the darkness of the room beyond.

 _Someone's paranoid of unexpected guests,_ he thought, drawing one of his swords and sticking the blade through the crack, easily cutting the wire and disarming the booby trap. He was still very careful when opening the door fully, aware that the first trap may have been a decoy. He was proven right when he glanced down at the floor, where a wicked-looking leg trap lurked. It glinted in the light of the lantern, revealing its true purpose. Where most leg traps were meant to immobilise the hunter's prey, this one was far sharper—its purpose was to sever whatever limb was stuck into it, and leave the limb's owner bleeding to death.

 _Security is paramount,_ Sheik thought, remembering his lessons. _Our secrets must be preserved, no matter the cost. Interlopers must be dealt with swiftly._

Whoever was in charge of the Terminan workshop had definitely taken the lesson to heart, Sheik decided, after carefully disarming the spring-loaded trap and finding the blunderbuss that was aimed at the door—the trap he'd nearly set off when opening the door. He surveyed the large room from his position by the leg trap, surprised at the size. This main room was at least two stories high, and about the same length and width as the stables Tinn worked in. Rows of tables covered in tools and weapons of various sizes occupied most of the floor space. A huge furnace stood in one corner, surrounded by anvils and every single blacksmith's tool in existence. There were two other doors leading to what Sheik presumed were the living quarters, and other rooms, but he did not explore these.

 _The caretaker has stepped out for a moment, it seems,_ Sheik thought, finding and activating the gaslights that lined the workshop, illuminating it properly. He then found himself a chair by one of the tool benches, removed his weapons, sat down, and waited.

It was proper procedure. One did not barge into a workshop and simply make use of it without at least alerting its caretaker first. Granted, one was allowed to enter it, should said caretaker be away, but using their tools without their leave was a major faux pas.

Sheik _did_ take the liberty of lighting the tile stove by the door after he began shivering, if only to give himself a chance to dry off after being in the rain for so long. He couldn't recall there being a rule against _that_.

He must have dozed off at some point, because he was suddenly aware of someone unlocking the first door, the noises signalling that someone had used a proper key. He straightened up in his chair, ensured that his weapons were visible and _just_ out of his reach, to put the newcomer at ease. He also lowered his collar, revealing his face.

They definitely noticed that someone had arrived in their absence, judging by the way they immediately burst into the workshop area, a mean-looking rifle sweeping the area. The barrel was quickly pointed at Sheik, who calmly raised his hands in a gesture meant to convey his harmlessness. The rifle's owner (face hidden by their weapon and the wide-brimmed hat on their head) paused, and then uttered in a masculine tone:

" _Night has fallen, and darkness conceals our path._ "

It had been years since he'd heard the Sheikah tongue uttered by someone other than himself. It was...comforting, somehow. Sheik took a breath, and replied: " _So we must light the way with the fire in our hearts, and burn the nightmares hidden within._ "

The newcomer relaxed immediately, lowering his rifle and giving Sheik a friendly salute. "Juichi, Terminan workshop caretaker and liaison, at your service."

Sheik smiled and stood up, returning the salute. "Sheik, Hyrulian workshop caretaker and liaison, at yours."

Juichi paused, his red eyes looking Sheik up and down carefully. His face was hidden beneath his high collar (like most hunters), but there was a definite crinkle of his skin as he smiled beneath it. "I thought there was something familiar about your face. Master Impa's features run in the family, it seems. Welcome to my workshop, cousin."

"Thank you, cousin," Sheik said, smiling and bowing slightly.

After their clans had scattered all over the world, the Sheikah had all begun to refer to each other as cousins, no matter which clan they hailed from. It provided them with a sense of familiarity and belonging with each other, to combat the isolationism that the large distances that divided them invariably gave rise to.

Juichi removed his hat and lowered his collar, revealing his short, blonde hair, and a scarred right cheek on a fairly young face. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties at the most. He put his rifle in a rack by the door and closed the door behind him. "There have been attempted break-ins lately," he said, removing his coat. He wore a simple simple shirt and waistcoat beneath, and black trousers. "I don't like the idea of not leaving a few...surprises, just in case someone _does_ manage to pick the lock." He gave Sheik another smile. "Not that you had any trouble disarming them, it seems."

"Simple enough," Sheik answered. "A regular thief might not have been as careful as me when breaking and entering. The leg trap was practically invisible in the dark."

"The carelessness of thieves in this part of town is what I'm counting on," Juichi said. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from my Hyrulian cousin?"

"I'm on my way to the Studio," Sheik explained. "I was forced to make a stop here in Termina, and I figured I might as well pay a visit, if only to make your acquaintance. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing the Clock Town workshop before now."

"Well, you are certainly a welcome sight," Juichi said, warming his hands by the tile stove. "It has been a long time since I've had visitors. Your impromptu arrival also saves me the trouble of having to send a raven to you."

"A raven?" Sheik raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"A general order," Juichi said, shrugging. "To every hunter it reaches. The Studio is in need of a new doctor."

"Why? What happened to Angen?"

A brief image of the former soldier's smiling face flashed before his mind's eye—Sheik had only met Angen a couple of times when he was younger, but he remembered liking the man quite a bit.

"Fool tried to leave the pass in the middle of a storm," Juichi said, grimacing. "There was a flood, and he was caught in it. Drowned, I believe. The letter didn't go into explicit detail, but the fact remains that the Studio is currently lacking a medical professional, and every hunter has been ordered to keep a lookout for possible candidates to replace Angen. Master Impa asks us to look for a proper physician this time around, too."

 _She expects everyone just to drop what they're doing and start looking for doctors?_ Sheik wondered. "I see...well, I will certainly keep an eye out."

"As will I—though I doubt I will find any here in Clock Town. I mean, there are plenty of physicians here, but few will be interested in moving from the comfort of the warm city to a cold, crumbling castle in a windy-ass mountain pass that freezes over every winter." Juichi chuckled. "And speaking of freezing—care for some tea? I'm quite sure I'll turn into an icicle soon if I don't get something warm in me."

"I'd love some."

They occupied themselves with the tea. One of the doors Sheik had spied earlier did indeed lead into the living quarters of the workshop. There were three guest rooms with four beds each in addition to the master bedroom, which was occupied by the caretaker, along with a small kitchen and dining area.

"It's been a long time since I've had visitors," Juichi said, repeating what he'd said before as he poured them both cups of warm, delicious lemon-flavoured tea. "Longer still since family stopped by. At this point, I'm starting to suspect I'm the only Sheikah left in Termina."

"It's the same in Hyrule," Sheik said, gratefully taking a sip of the warming drink. "But that's nothing new—the clans lost interest in the realm after the last siege."

"Can't really blame them," Juichi said, shaking his head, which made the large number of rings in his ears jingle against each other. "The Hylians _were_ quite adamant about us staying out. Even if Princess Zelda has invited us back, there are still many who remember her grandfather's reign of terror."

"Oh, I don't blame them at all," Sheik said. "But it still gets...lonely."

"I know the feeling," the older Sheikah said with an empathetic nod. "No matter how friendly you are with the locals, they can never replace family." He ate a biscuit, looking thoughtful. "So...the Studio? Any particular reason for going there, or is it just a slow season in Hyrule? Do have a biccy," he added.

"Slow season...and I have a potential hunter I'd like to see put to the test," Sheik answered, taking Juichi's offer and helping himself to a biscuit. "He has a lot of potential."

"Did you bring him with you?"

"I did," Sheik replied. "He's waiting at the inn."

"Background?"

"Farmer, but a natural shooter and swordsman. Shot a lycan straight through the eye and saved my life."

Juichi whistled. "Impressive. And you think he has what it takes to live like this?"

"That's for the test to determine. So far, he has only seen what passes for the _glamorous_ parts of being a hunter...which says a lot since we had to deal with a skulker infestation in the sewers. Whether he will find the even less pleasant bits just as appealing remains to be seen...but he is quite resilient."

"Then I am sure he will pass...if your aunt accepts him, that is."

"She will have no reason not to let him try, at least."

"True, true." Juichi sipped at his tea quietly for a minute, eyes flitting about. "May I ask you a favour, cousin?" he finally asked.

Sheik blinked, and slowly nodded. "Certainly," he replied.

"I'm going on a hunt tomorrow night, in the forest just outside the city. I was wondering if you would care to accompany me."

"I don't see why not," Sheik said. They would have to stay in Clock Town for a little while anyway—Lor wouldn't be in any shape to move for a week at the least. He had the time. "What are we hunting?"

"That's the thing," Juichi said, clearing his throat. "I don't know; that's why I need your help. This isn't an official contract—it's an investigation."

Sheik gave him a dubious look. "An investigation?"

"There's an iron mine near a small lake called The Mirror," Juichi continued. "People have gone missing. So far, the disappearances have been explained as the workers growing tired of the conditions and simply running away, but I have my doubts. I want to take a closer look around the area, just to see if there's something that needs to be...eliminated. You're free to say no, of course. This is _my_ territory, after all."

"What makes you think the workers aren't running away?"

Juichi shook his head. "Because I've heard rumours of the same workers roaming in the woods at night. Could easily be the work of overactive imaginations, of course, but I'd still like to take a closer look, just to be certain. So...are you in?"

Sheik nodded. "I am."

Juichi smiled widely. "Thank you, cousin. Hopefully, we will find nothing and the rumours will be just that—rumours."

"Anytime, cousin."

* * *

The woman kneeled on the rug in Lord Camdessus' study, eyes taking in every detail of the young man's study. The lord himself was pacing back and forth in front of him, making several false starts before finally settling down long enough to take a proper breath.

"You come highly recommended," the young lord said. "Ascal said you were the finest woman he had ever worked with."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, rising smoothly to her feet and looking him directly in the eyes. "Though I would question Ascal's use of the word _fine_..." She grinned, revealing a pair of canines that were _slightly_ too long. It made him delightfully nervous, she noted. "May I ask why I have been summoned? Your letter did not say..."

"Please, have a seat," Lord Camdessus said, gesturing to the seat opposite his by the fire. "A...fortuitous opportunity has appeared, and w—I cannot waste any time in seizing it. Ascal is occupied with some other business of mine outside Hyrule, and he suggested that I hire you to perform the task here, domestically."

"The task?" she asked, not sitting down. It made him nervous, she saw. It only made her grin wider.

"A kidnapping," the young lord said, trying to appear nonchalant...and failing miserably as he continually picked at his cravat and the high collar that covered most of his neck. There was one particular spot he kept touching, as if it reassured him. "Of a...rather prominent person."

"Who?"

"Princess Zelda."

The woman blinked at that. "The princess? Rather bold, I must say."

"It's not the _real_ princess," the lord was quick to point out. "She's a body double...but just as valuable."

"Say no more, my lord," she announced. "I do not presume to know or learn the plans and schemes of my betters. My men and I will bring you the false princess—that I swear."

"Excellent," the young lord said with a sigh of relief. Evidently, he'd been nervous she'd turn his offer down. "You will be paid handsomely, of course. Half now, half upon completion. The princess is currently residing in her western estate, the—"

"The manor by Lake Hylia," she finished. "I am familiar with it. We passed it on our way here." She headed for the door, not waiting to be dismissed. "Someone will be by to pick up half our fee later tonight, my lord. Where would you like us to bring the girl?"

"My house in the country," Lord Camdessus said, flustered at his lack of control of the situation. "It's—"

"Near Lon Lon Ranch," she finished for him again. "I am familiar with that too. You will have her within the week, my lord. Good night to you."

She was gone. The meeting had lasted less than five minutes, including the time she'd taken being escorted to his study from the servants' entrance.

Lord Camdessus sank deeper into his chair, shakily pouring himself a drink. She was nothing like Ascal...but if she was even half as good as he claimed her to be...

He sipped at the strong spirit, hoping to the Goddesses that he was doing the right thing. It was drastic, perhaps, but the realm needed to be brought into the new century...and he would be the one to do it.

Things had to change.

They had to.


	20. The Guilt

Link glared at Sheik's retreating back as the latter disappeared into the rain, his long collar pulled up to ward off the worst of the downpour. Tucked beneath his coat, the Sheikah bristled with weaponry, prepared for a long hunt. In the distance, the bells of the central clock tower struck eleven, its face illuminated by the gaslights within the tower itself.

They'd been arguing all day, neither side backing down. Link had insisted he come along on the hunt, Sheik had said no. It was one thing to have an outsider accompany him on hunts within his own jurisdiction, Sheik had claimed, but quite another when on another hunter's territory. He hadn't even let Link _meet_ this mysterious hunter before announcing that the Ordonian would have to stay behind.

Link hadn't been happy about that at all. What if Sheik got hurt? What if this Juichi had sniffed out trouble that two hunters couldn't handle on their own? Why couldn't Sheik ask if Juichi would allow Link to come along?

The Sheikah had been unusually firm on this, however, and that was why he was trudging the streets of Clock Town on his own, apparently heading off to meet with Juichi before leaving the city altogether. He'd given Link an assignment, as if that would somehow mitigate the slight hurt he'd felt at Sheik's dismissal.

_"Protect Zelda and Lor,"_ he'd said. _"You never know, if someone's been following us..."_

It was a proper job, he supposed. Temporary bodyguard for a princess? Sure...but still, he longed to be at Sheik's side, hunting monsters...even if it meant stepping into the dreadful rain that had not let up since it started two days before.

Sighing, the Ordonian went back inside the clinic and shut the door behind him, locking it firmly. There were plenty of burglars interested in the medicines and other chemicals Kaura kept in her dispensary, and she had on more than one occasion been forced to fetch her poker to chase out some poor wretch looking for a fix. Link didn't want to be responsible for another break-in, so he double-checked the door to ensure it wouldn't budge in the face of persistent pushing.

He returned to the parlour where Zelda and Tao were sitting, deeply engrossed in their game of cards. He watched with amusement how the princess' scowl grew when Tao revealed his hand, raking in his winnings (two rupees and what appeared to be a glossy card of some sort, with an artistic picture of a dragon on it) with a huge grin on his face. He looked questioningly at the princess as he began to shuffle the deck, silently challenging her to another hand.

"Deal, you little terror," the princess said firmly, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her pointed ear. "I shall defeat you yet."

Tao's grin grew wider as he nodded enthusiastically, dealing them each another hand.

"Are you sure that's wise, Your Grace?" Link asked, trying and failing to hide a smile. "He hasn't lost a hand against you all night."

"He's cheating," Zelda countered, narrowing her eyes when Tao stuck his tongue out at her accusation. "I know he is—no one can be _this_ lucky."

"I thought you said this was a game of skill, not luck?" Link said innocently, seating himself beside Tao and looking at the boy's hand. He tried not to wince. He wasn't very good at this game himself (the rules were too hard to remember half the time), but even he knew that Zelda would have a hard time winning this round.

"I did, but then Tao started winning..." she trailed off, trying to read the boy's expression as she debated on whether to raise or lower her bet. "Luck or cheating, that is what it takes to defeat me in the noblest of all games."

Link grinned at that. He hadn't imagined the princess of Hyrule to be so competitive...or petty, really. "Didn't know poker was a noble game—it certainly didn't seem that way at the tavern back home," he offered. "Mum broke someone's nose over it once—not on purpose, of course, but still...she hated losing."

Zelda glanced up at him. "What was she like, your mother?"

He blinked in surprise. He hadn't even realised he'd mentioned her. It still hurt, thinking about his parents, but now...he found himself merely smiling at the memory of a stick-thin, blonde-haired Hylian woman punching a man twice her size in the face so hard his nose turned into a bloody potato. Over a card game. He'd laughed his arse off that night.

Apparently, the memory took some time to finish replaying in his head, because Zelda was suddenly speaking again.

"Forgive me," she said, looking down at her cards again with a frown, surely berating herself for forcing to speak of his family so soon after their last conversation about it. "I did not mean to upset you... _again_...it has not been very long—"

"You didn't upset me," he said hurriedly, noticing that Tao was looking at him with an intense gaze, like he too was curious about Link's mother. "I just...she's difficult to describe, you know? She was...kind, warm...never had a bad word to say to anyone unless they truly deserved it...or beat her at poker."

The princess smiled at that.

"She was strong, too, even if she didn't look it. Could easily beat my dad at arm-wrestling. He'd laugh it off and pretend he let her win, but I always saw the way he strained, how careful he was with that arm the rest of the day." Link couldn't beat back the fond smile that came to his lips, and he found himself truly enjoying thinking and talking about his parents now, for the first time since the attack on Ordon. "Honestly, I think he was a bit terrified of her, especially when he did something he wasn't supposed to."

"She sounds like a wonderful woman," Zelda replied.

Tao nodded in agreement.

"She would have liked you, I think," Link continued, looking at her. "She didn't like nobs—er, nobles—very much, but you are nothing like them. You curse like a sailor, and aren't afraid of getting dirty...even if you hate it."

Yes, he could easily imagine his mother getting along very well with Zelda.

Tao's glare nearly burned a hole in the side of Link's head. "Yes, Tao, she would have liked you too," he added, to the boy's satisfaction.

"I'm...glad to hear it," Zelda said, eyes widening slightly. "I would have enjoyed meeting her." Her eyes were glued to her cards once more. "I never knew my own mother," she said quietly. "She died when I was born, and Father could never bear to speak of her around me...possibly because I looked too much like her...or simply looking at me reminded him of the night she died." She raised her bet, ignoring the sad look she was getting from Tao. "There were portraits of her everywhere, so I know what she looked like, but...it's not the same as seeing someone in real life."

"It isn't," Link agreed.

"Still, I had some of her diaries and letters. I felt they gave me a _little_ insight on what she was like. She had some...strong words for certain nobles who overstepped their boundaries, the same council members who nearly ran the kingdom into the ground while Father locked himself away in his grief. It was no small part of the reason I took on most of the administrative duties when he passed away. I couldn't let them continue like that anymore, not after reading what my mother had to say about them."

"And the kingdom thanks you for it, I'm sure," Link said, nodding.

Zelda paused, blinking. "Oh dear," she said, her cheeks turning red. "Here we were talking about you and your family, and I wrestle the conversation to be about me—my apologies."

Link chuckled at that. "No need," he said. "I was running out of things to say, anyway."

"Do let me know if I overstep like this again, though," Zelda said, noticing that Tao had made his move. "After all, I...what the fu—dge?!" She caught herself just in time to turn her curse into something more appropriate. "How did you even know?!"

Tao gave her a smug, victorious smile as he once again swept his winnings (a blue rupee this time) to his side of the parlour table. He'd called her bluff immediately...though that was not difficult, given the hand he'd been dealt.

"Does he have cards up his sleeves?!" she exclaimed. "Link, check his sleeves!"

"I respectfully decline to obey that order," Link said solemnly. "He is not a citizen of Hyrule, and I can therefore not put my hands on him without causing a diplomatic incident."

Tao offered him a fist, which he bumped lightly with his own (an odd gesture the boy had quickly taught him after their arrival at the clinic, but which he delighted in reciprocating whenever he could) in a show of camaraderie.

"You just did!" the princess nearly shrieked, far from the dignified example of royalty she'd been moments before.

"Because he initiated the contact," Link replied. "It is rude not to share in foreign customs."

"Eugh, you're starting to sound like Sheik..."

Link's smile fell at the mention of the Sheikah. He was still annoyed and hurt he hadn't been brought along. The reasons were sound, he supposed, but he felt...alive when he was out with Sheik. He very much enjoyed the company of Zelda and Tao, of course, but they were nothing compared to hunting vermin with the red-eyed boy he'd snogged silly at the castle...

"He had his reasons for leaving you behind," Zelda said, understanding right away the reason for his glum expression. "Chief among them, I imagine, would be that they have no idea what they are hunting, and not wanting you to get hurt. Sheik brought you along on the other hunts because he knew exactly what you would be dealing with...or mostly, at least."

"I know," Link said, nodding slowly.

"By the time you become true hunter, I imagine you'll have to pry him off you with a stick," she noted with amusement. "I have never seen Sheik so attached to someone before...it's very amusing to watch."

Link had to fight down a gulp. Had she any clue as to the nature of his and Sheik's relationship, whatever that was? What they'd done almost immediately after leaving her at the party?

"I'm glad he's found such a good friend in you, Link," she said. "And I am certain he was only looking out for your wellbeing when he told you to stay here."

"I suppose..."

"What's this?" Kaura asked as she entered the parlour, shrugging off her white coat. "Poker? Deal me in."

"How is he?" Link asked the doctor as she seated herself beside Zelda. Kaura had spent an awful long time with Lor that evening.

"Improving," Kaura replied. "Fever's going down, might even be completely gone by the day after tomorrow, if we're lucky. He's a strong one, I'll give him that. I've taken him off the sedatives as well. He'll be awake by noon tomorrow, confused and groggy, but a lot better off than he was the last time he saw my comforting mug."

Tao blew a raspberry at that, earning him a glare from the physician?

"Oh, I'm not comforting am I?" she asked. "So you _didn't_ cling to me for an hour last week after having a nightmare?"

Tao's cheeks darkened with a blush at that, and he huffed as he dealt all four of them a new hand. Kaura laughed triumphantly.

Link considered ducking out, but he supposed he needed the distraction as well, to prevent his thoughts and worries (and annoyance) to centre on stupid Sheik and his stupid hunt with his stupid cousin in the stupid forest.

The game lasted for another hour, but by the time the clock struck twelve, Tao was nodding off. More than once, the boy had awoken to find himself leaning into Link's side, to his embarrassment. Link pretended not to notice, but Zelda took every opportunity to coo at the poor boy. At that point, Kaura announced that they'd all stayed up far too late, and that it was time to turn in for the night. She gave her guests no choice in the matter, hounding Zelda up the stairs to the guest room before she had a chance to protest, while simultaneously ordering Link to the sofa he'd been occupying.

He'd undressed to his trousers and a light shirt, bare toes curling on the carpet, when he happened to look out the window and into the rainy night once more. He found his thoughts drawn to Sheik at that moment (which was far from unusual), wondering if the other boy had left the city yet or was still preparing for the hunt at this Juichi's workshop. Link briefly entertained the thought of getting dressed and heading out himself, but quickly fought it down since he had no idea where to even start looking in Clock Town...much less if they'd already left for the wilderness.

He sighed for the umpteenth time that night and quickly extinguished the gaslights on the walls and the candles on the coffee table before tucking himself beneath the blanket on the sofa. It took him a while to find a comfortable position, thanks to the rather scratchy upholstery (and the less said about the pattern the better), but when he finally found a way to stretch out without having his back folded in half, he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

Sleep did not come. It had probably been a vain hope; his thoughts would not come to a rest, shifting between annoyance with and worry for Sheik. What if there were skulkers? Link wouldn't be there to pull him out of the trouble this time, and...why hadn't he even _considered_ that possibility before telling Link to stay?

"Stubborn...dumb..." Link grumbled, twisting and turning.

He listened as the clocks struck one...two...three...four! At that point, he gave up any hope of sleep and rolled off the sofa, stretching and padding out of the room.

It probably wasn't a good idea, roaming the halls at night with a scalpel-happy physician upstairs, but Link needed to occupy himself with something, anything. He lost count of how many times he paced the rough circle of the kitchen, front room, parlour, and main hall, and finally the sheer repetition of it forced him to move on...and into the patient room.

He probably wasn't supposed to be in here without Kaura around, but what was the harm if Lor was asleep (more like knocked out with tranquillisers) anyway?

The room itself was entirely dark, the wooden floor creaking slightly under his weight. He heard Lor's soft breathing, happy to note it sounded far less struggling than it had two days before. He'd truly feared his friend would die, and his relief at being told Lor would pull through had been incredible. Carefully, Link found a candle and lit it with a match, letting his eyes become accustomed to the sharp light of the flame.

To his relief, Lor looked perfectly at ease—his expression calm and relaxed. The bruising was still quite bad, but at least the swelling had gone down, and the vicious cuts had been bandaged firmly.

Kaura hadn't encased his leg in a cast, on the very likely chance that Lor wouldn't be staying there long enough for it to be of any use. Instead, she had put it in a brace that kept it immobile, preventing the break from being aggravated by unnecessary movement, but would still allow him to hobble around with the help of crutches. It looked very uncomfortable, though Link knew it would only help in the long run.

He seated himself in the chair beside Lor's bed, carefully setting the candle down on the small table next to it.

It was soothing for his nerves, listening to Lor's breathing. It let him know that at least _one_ thing had gone right, even if Sheik was off risking his life without Link there to help him. He studied the younger boy's face, noting that even with the bruises Lor's slave tattoo stood out clearly, marking him as property, an object, and not a person. He'd escaped it, luckily (though he had yet to tell Link or Sheik how), but the thought of the children of Ordon suffering the same fate...

"You got hurt because of us, didn't you?" he whispered, brushing a black lock of hair out of Lor's face. "Whoever we snubbed when rescuing the kids...they came looking for payback, and they found you..."

He rubbed his eyes, not sure if the sudden fogginess in his vision was from his lack of sleep or tears...maybe both. "Sorry, Lor...didn't mean for you to get dragged into this shit..."

Maybe it was Link's voice, or perhaps Lor sensed that someone was nearby. Either way, the boy began to stir, brows knitting with tension. A quiet whine escaped from his split lips, his breath growing laboured.

Link started, leaning forward. "Lor, can you hear me?"

"Mmm...no...don't..." Lor gasped, his voice rough and cracked. "Please...don't..."

"Lor," Link continued. "It's me, Link. You're safe now."

Lor paid him no mind, his breathing coming out in short gasps, tears leaking from the corners of his tightly shut eyes, shivering beneath the sheets. "I don't know...where he is...please, no more, I can't...I can't take it...it hurts, please stop..."

"Lor!" Link exclaimed, not caring if he woke up the entire clinic. He didn't know what else to do—Lor was clearly reliving the nightmare he'd been through, and he wasn't about to let his friend be tormented even more—once was enough! He reached out and tenderly touched Lor's shoulder—one of the few places that hadn't suffered too much damage—and shook him gently. "Lor, wake up! You're dreaming—there's nothing to be afraid of anymore! You're safe, we're with you!"

Lor's eyes slammed open, his entire body tensing up as he tried to recall where he was. He clearly didn't recognise it, probably thinking he was still with his captors, because his sobs grew even worse and he curled himself into a foetal position...or tried to, anyway, though his leg brace prevented him from completely shielding himself from the world. "Please," he begged with a delirious tone, pleading for his invisible torturers to end it. "I don't know where he is!"

Not knowing what else to do, Link climbed into the bed, careful not to jostle any of Lor's wounds, and gently ran his fingers through Lor's hair, ignoring the sweaty mess it had become. Any other action may have reminded him of his attackers, but he was pretty sure none of them had done _this_. As he combed Lor's black tresses, he hummed a wordless tune from his childhood, one his mother had used to soothe both Link and his sister after they'd had nightmares. It rose and fell in tone, intended to distract and burrow itself into the listener's ear with its catchiness, and calm with its gentleness. Every now and then, he paused his singing to say with his most assuring voice, "It's okay, you're safe now. I'm here, Sheik's here...we've got you."

He wasn't sure how long he did this, but after a while Lor's shaking stopped, and his sobs became subdued. His body began to relax, slowly uncurling. One of the screws in his leg brace dug painfully into Link's knee, but he ignored it, focused on comforting his friend.

"Link?"

The voice was even hoarser now, but it sounded more lucid than before. Careful, like he was afraid that this too was a dream. Link was determined to make him realise it wasn't.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, continuing his gentle touches, taking a chance to pull Lor slightly into his arms. Lor grew tense at first, but then relaxed when no abuse was forthcoming. "You're safe, Lor, I swear to you."

"Where...where are we?" His head was turned away from Link, but he assumed Lor's eyes were studying what little he could see of the room. "This isn't...the Temple."

"No, we're pretty far away," Link replied. "We're in Termina, Clock Town to be exact. The constable Tinn brought you to managed to catch up with us."

"Termina..."

"How are you feeling?"

"Not good...my leg..."

Link felt movement at his knee as Lor tried to shift his braced leg. "It's broken, but Kaura said it would heal fine as long as you didn't move it around too much."

"Kaura?" Lor turned his head to face him now, eyes still brimming with tears. "Who's that?"

"The doctor who treated you."

"I see...is...is Sheik all right?"

"Sheik is perfectly fine—he's out on a hunt right now with another Sheikah. He'd want to be here if he knew you'd be waking up right now." Link cursed his luck—of _course_ Sheik would be gone the exact moment Lor came around. "He'll be overjoyed to see you awake."

"I didn't tell them anything," Lor muttered. "Not a damn thing...not even when they...when they..." He looked back at Link. "I swear."

"I believe you," Link said firmly. "You're tough, Lor. Tougher than anyone I've ever met." He wasn't sure if this was the right moment, but sooner or later they'd have to ask. "Do you...do you remember who did this to you? Names, appearances, anything?"

"I...not much," Lor said, face screwing up in concentration. "Brought me to a warehouse...their leader...grey hair, posh accent. Had a sword, thin..."

"Did you hear any names?" Link pressed.

"N-No...or...maybe?"

"Lor?"

Link couldn't imagine how painful it must have been, having to remember the awful things that had been done to him, but the more information Lor could offer, the better the chance they'd be able to find the culprits and make them pay. Severely.

"I heard...someone say...something beginning with A...when I passed out...As...something."

"Yes?" Link tightened his hold on Lor, still being careful not to jostle his wounds too badly.

"As...Ascal, I think..."

Link's stomach plunged. Surely not? He couldn't imagine the kind man who'd helped him with his parcel, who'd spoken so enthusiastically about his interest in accents and dialects, who'd entertained a simple country boy so readily...but then, what city person would? Unless he was trying to gather information, that is... He swallowed thickly. "Did...did he talk about an employer?" he asked carefully.

"He had a master, but I never heard who," Lor said carefully, realising that Link had gone as tense as he was. "Link, what's wrong?"

"I...nothing." Link cut himself off. He had no way of knowing if it was really the same Ascal—they attackers could have seen Link with Ascal that day and simply used that information to throw them off the trail. Yeah, that was definitely a possibility. Otherwise, Link had led them directly to Lor. His stomach roiled, the taste of bile already in his mouth. It had been an accident, but that didn't matter when the result was his friend being beaten, tortured, and raped. It meant absolutely nothing if it were an accident or not! He carefully extracted himself from the bed, once again being careful not to cause Lor any pain. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna tell Kaura you're awake. She'll give you something for the pain, I'm sure."

"Link, what's wrong?" Lor repeated, easily picking up on his awkward reaction.

"Nothing's wrong," he tried to assure him, but the Ordonian knew his tone was anything but assuring. "I'll be right back."

"Don't go, please—"

"I'll be _right_ back, I swear."

He quickly left the room and crossed the hall, retreating through the kitchen and into the small restroom in the adjoining corridor. He kneeled by the porcelain bowl, and was vomiting moments later, his stomach apparently trying to turn itself inside out. He continued until nothing but bile came up, his sweaty fringe plastered to his forehead.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder and gently rubbed it until he stopped heaving.

He didn't deserve the comfort, and nothing but guilt welled up in him when he turned to face Tao, who was giving him a concerned look. "I'm fine," he gasped. "Lor's awake...you should go see to him."

Tao gave a half-nod in the direction of the patient room, and Link could hear faint voices coming from there. Kaura's firm tone, Lor's shaking one.

"Oh, good..."

Tao snapped his finger in front of Link's face, bringing his attention back to the younger boy. There was a question on his face, and Tao pointed to his stomach.

"Just...the things they did to Lor," he lied. "Bastards like that...sickening."

Tao didn't look satisfied at that, but nevertheless he nodded and left Link for a moment, returning with a glass of water, motioning for him to drink it up, which he did. It was soothing to his throat, sore from the acid of his stomach.

"Tao, I need you!" Kaura called from the other side of the clinic, and the boy left Link to his guilt, blissfully ignorant of what the Ordonian had done.

My fault, Link thought. This is all my fault...


	21. The Mirror

Sheik had nearly dozed off by the time the rocking carriage came to a halt, the gentle pattering of rain on the wooden roof having calmed him down considerably after his parting with Link, which had been less than peaceful after Sheik had once again denied him permission to tag along. It wasn't that Sheik didn't want the Ordonian to join them, but the unknown nature about the hunt coupled with the fact that this was Juichi's territory, presented a difficult situation.

Sheik had not hunted in this part of Termina before, and did not feel confident in his personal knowledge about the area to account for all the possible dangers or unforeseen complications. If something went wrong and Link got hurt... That thought alone made up his mind. In support of that, Juichi had mentioned that bringing a rookie along, even one that had killed a lycanthope, would be more of a liability than an asset in case things went pear-shaped.

So that had been his reason for leaving Link behind, which Link had not appreciated at all. Of course, Sheik hadn't outright told him this, preferring to make up an excuse about Zelda and Lor needing to be protected, but that too was a valid excuse...even if chances of someone finding them in the city were small. It helped, knowing that there was another capable fighter at the clinic.

The carriage door opened and a soaking wet Juichi hauled himself inside, closing it behind him. He sniffed, and then sneezed loudly. "Cold night out there," he muttered, fiddling with the underside of his seat, opening hidden panel. Inside, there was a small arsenal. In addition to the weapons he already carried on his person, Juichi had enough equipment to outfit a small army.

He pulled out a metal cylinder about the size of a fist, with a small metal hoop on the top. He shook it slightly, and Sheik heard the sloshing of liquid inside. Juichi grunted with satisfaction and twisted the hoop until a click was heard inside the cylinder, and then put the whole thing in one of his coat's inner pockets. "Lifesavers, these things," he told Sheik, tossing him another, identical cylinder. It was quite heavy. "Twist the hoop," he instructed.

Sheik did as he was told. It gave a click just like Juichi's, and...grew hot? His eyes widened as the cylinder suddenly became uncomfortably warm to hold—not burning hot, but still...

"Put it inside your coat," Juichi continued, giving him a small smile. "It'll keep you warm on a cold, wet night like this."

The heat became a comforting presence when Sheik put it in the inner pocket of his coat, just over his chest. "That feels...nice," he said. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I designed them myself," Juichi said, sounding more than a little proud. "Figured the northern hunters would appreciate something like this when they're roaming the wastes. I sent the plans to the Studio, but I guess the twins haven't gotten around to examining them yet."

Sheik nodded. That made sense. He didn't know Ard and Erd that well, but he knew they were always busy with something or other, and standardising the designs of the hunters' own inventions were usually kept as a low priority unless it was an absolutely integral piece of equipment. He could easily imagine Juichi's heating device not making the cut, despite how useful it'd be in colder climates. He certainly appreciated now, and most certainly would when stepping into the rain.

"How does it work?" Sheik asked, touching the outside of his coat. It was very warm.

"Chemical reaction," Juichi said simply. "The main chamber of the cylinder contains one reactant, and twisting the hoop opens another chamber containing the other. The reaction is exothermic, meaning it releases energy—in this case in the form of heat. Took me a while to find the right mixture...accidentally melted my bathtub once," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "But that thing will keep itself warm for about six hours with the current formula."

"Brilliant, cousin," Sheik said with a grin. "Shall we get to it, then?"

"Let's."

They climbed out of the carriage together, into the driving rain. Juichi had driven them along a road leading into the forest outside Clock Town. The road itself was gravel up to this point, but further on it turned into a muddy quagmire thanks to the rain.

"We're not far from The Mirror," Juichi explained as he led the way forwards, hitching a circular lantern identical to Sheik's to his belt, but not lighting it. Sheikah night vision was more than adequate for darkness like this. "But I don't trust the road up ahead—the carriage will sink."

"I can handle a little walking," Sheik replied. The rain was already finding its way inside his clothes, but the heating device did its job, keeping him comfortably warm. He pulled his tricorn down to shield his face from the torrent.

"Oh, and another thing," Juichi said, snapping his finger and stopping mid-step, nearly causing Sheik to crash into him from behind. "I always forget to tell—don't knock the cylinder about too much. They tend to get a little...explosive...if overexcited."

Sheik glanced down at the bulge over his chest, suddenly feeling less enthusiastic about the thing. "...how explosive?" he asked.

Juichi bit his lip. "You don't want to know."

_Yes I bloody do!_ Sheik thought, but forced himself to nod. "All right," he said, "don't knock it about. Got it."

"Excellent, let's move."

He slung the rifle from his shoulder and continued to lead the way, soon leaving the road and stepping into the forest itself. There didn't seem to be any sort of path, but Juichi apparently knew the way.

"The miners won't appreciate a pair of blood-eyes showing up at their main camp in the middle of the night," the older Sheikah explained quietly as they walked. "I only learned about the problem to begin with from a drunken foreman who complained about it at my favourite pub."

"Well, this isn't a paid assignment," Sheik said, remembering the night he'd met Juichi.

"More of an investigation, yeah," Juichi agreed. "I don't like the idea of having something unknown on my doorstep, especially when it makes people disappear."

They continued on in silence for fifteen minutes or so. Conversation did not flow as easily with Juichi as it had back at his workshop, but then the older hunter seemed to have a rather professional attitude when he was out on a job. Sheik liked that - he had never been very good at small talk.

"Here, The Mirror," Juichi suddenly said, pointing ahead of them. Through the trees, Sheik could see the surface of the lake, turbulent from the wind and filling steadily with the rain. Beyond it, there were lights in the forest. "The main camp," Juichi continued. "We'll circle the lake and check out the smaller dwellings. Then we'll cross the dam and take a closer look at the mine."

"Dam?"

At Sheik's questioning glance, Juichi pointed to the western end of the lake, which was obscured by the trees. "The miners built the dam to divert the waters and create a small river that runs through their camp, and then further into the sea west of here. It powers some of their machines and other equipment. Pretty clever, but expensive and devastating to the local wildlife."

That was enough of the history lesson, it seemed, as he continued to walk straight ahead until they reached the sandy shore. Now that they were closer, Sheik could see that there were more, smaller lights around the big lake in addition to those of the main camp.

"I'd suggest we split up, but seeing as you're not familiar with the area..." Juichi said, trailing off. "We'll do the eastern cottages first, yeah?"

"As you say," Sheik said with a nod, deferring to his judgement. He didn't want to step on Juichi's toes, and he had no personal opinion on their approach. After all, this was an investigation, and it was better that the both of them were present to analyse any possible clues.

The woods around the lake smelled of rot and decay, despite the rain's best efforts at washing them clean. Sheik wondered if it had anything to do with the mine itself and other industrial work related to it, but kept his thoughts to himself. Juichi didn't comment, so perhaps it was simply normal for the area.

They reached the first cottage soon after - a ramshackle collection of mismatched planks and stone, hastily constructed as a temporary dwelling for workers who didn't care much for staying in the big camp. The two hunters didn't step into the light coming from the windows or the lantern on the porch, staying among the trees to quietly observe the activity within. To Sheik, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. A pair of men were playing cards inside, laughing and drinking. After a few minutes of observation, Juichi motioned for Sheik to follow him, and they began to head for the next set of lights among the trees.

"Looked peaceful, didn't it?" he asked Sheik quietly.

"Until they become intoxicated."

Juichi blinked, grinning beneath his mask. "Is that disapproval I hear in your voice, cousin?"

"There is nothing wrong with a drink every now and then," Sheik said. " _A_ drink." He remembered Link and Lor's legendary bender back in Hyrule. "Drunkenness, however..."

Juichi snorted, but made no further comment. "Here's another one," he said when another cottage came into view, shielded from the elements by an overhanging rock face. This one seemed to be occupied by a single individual...and a very mean dog who immediately began to bark upon noticing the Sheikah's presence.

"Who's out there?!" the man within shouted, exploding out of his doorway with a rusty-looking blunderbuss, a relic from the last war surely. "Come out!"

"Time to go, methinks," Juichi whispered, leading them away.

The bad weather was a mercy, really. Had it been clear, the man and his dog might have given chase, but neither of them seemed willing to go into the downpour and get soaked. Hopefully, the night's event would simply be considered a matter of a dog detecting a random forest animal rather than a pair of blood-eyes.

"Well, at least he'll know if some nasty beast shows up in the night," Sheik said once they'd gotten far enough away. "That mutt sounded angry."

"I'll say," Juichi agreed. "He should consider himself lucky to have it."

They continued searching the eastern shore, finding every single cottage occupied and not a thing out of place. Soon enough, they were back on the shore where they'd originally emerged from the forest.

The first few cottages on the western side of the lake were very much like those to the east - occupied and cheerfully lit, the sounds of voices and laughter coming from within. One seemed to be inhabited by a miner and his entire extended family, including the grandparents. How they managed to fit so many people into so small a dwelling, Sheik would never know.

He supposed it was only a matter of time before something went wrong, and he was soon proven right when they came across a dwelling whose door was wide open, hanging off a broken hinge. The only light within was coming from a burning fire in the stove that looked quite recent. Other than the door (which could simply have been poorly built), nothing else seemed out of place. The bed was made, the furniture was in perfect order, and a bowl of soup sat on the table by the stove. The soup was cold.

Stepping outside, Juichi looked apprehensive, checking his rifle and pistol at least two times each, as well as his blades. It led Sheik to do the same with his three pistols and daggers.

"Nervous?" he asked the older hunter.

"Just got a bad feeling," Juichi admitted, shrugging. "That, and my toes are bloody _frozen_! Don't trust the cheap cobblers, cousin, they will always swindle you."

A bad attempt at alleviating the atmosphere. Perhaps the investigation would become a proper hunt after all.

"The person living here might simply have gone out for a moment," Sheik said, knowing how unlikely that was. "Is there an outhouse?"

"Not that I can see," Juichi muttered. He glanced up the slight hill behind the cottage and nodded. "There's another shack further up that path. Let's go."

Any uncertainty about the previous dwelling was crushed when they saw the state _this_ shack was in. The windows were broken, the door smashed in, the inside of it in complete disarray. And blood...so much of it, everywhere.

"No bodies," Sheik muttered. He bent down and picked up a discarded knife. The handle was bloody, but the blade looked like it had melted, bent and warped beyond any usefulness. The wooden planks beneath it had scorch marks on them, circular, almost like...

"Like someone spilled acid," Juichi said, suddenly beside him, touching the scorch marks with gloved fingers. "The blood...it looks like whoever lived here was dragged away, but the rain's washed away the trail."

"They might still be nearby," Sheik noted. "Blood's still relatively fresh. Hasn't completely dried yet." He smeared a particularly big spill to prove his point.

"Hm," Juichi grunted, stepping outside and studying the muddy ground. "The blood's washed away, but the marks...looks like they were being dragged back down to the lake."

"Something that lives in it?" Sheik ventured, hoping he wasn't going to have to dive into the frigid-looking waters. True, he was already thoroughly wet, but still...

"Possibly," Juichi said, nodding. "But as far as I know, The Mirror doesn't have any indigenous life other than normal fish...and the occasional Zora that ventured up here before the river was diverted. As far as I remember, Zora don't eat people."

"Well, standing here isn't going to reveal anything." Sheik studied the mud intently before he spotted the same drag marks Juichi had. "Let's go."

As it turned out, the trail did not lead into the lake. Halfway down to the shore, the tracks diverted into the woods, where it became easier to follow due to the damage done to the undergrowth. There was also more blood, indicating that they were definitely on the right trail. There were score marks on the tree trunks as well, like something had cut into them...or whoever was being dragged had tried to hold on...and failed.

"Stop."

Juichi's voice was soft, and Sheik immediately crouched beside him as he pointed ahead.

"There...in the clearing."

More signs of struggle, a great deal of blood...and a body. It was lying on its back, limbs spread-eagled.

"Body's still warm," Juichi murmured, noting the slight wisp of steam that rose from the numerous wounds on its upper body. The man's shirt was a torn mess, barely clinging to his bloody form.

"Means the beast must be close," Sheik said, reaching for a pistol. His sword would only be in the way if they had to fight among the trees.

"Unless..." Juichi's eyes narrowed, and then his breath hitched. "Look." He pointed directly at the body. "Its chest."

It was a minuscule movement, barely noticeable unless you really looked...but it _was_ moving. But...not in the right way.

"What the hell...?" Sheik whispered.

"Like...there's something...inside?" Juichi said.

The entire body gave a jerk, but not one Sheik could imagine a normal person would be able to produce. More like...artificial? Testing?

The man sat up, shaking and jerking like a wind-up toy, looking intently at his hands and legs before standing. Or making an attempt at it, anyway. The first time, he fell right onto his arse, the second time his knees buckled...however, on the third he remained standing, but his posture was slouched and uncomfortable-looking, arms hanging limply at his sides. His head swayed, loud cracks coming from his neck as it pivoted. Apparently satisfied, he made a squelching sound and turned around, heading further into the forest...and Sheik nearly shouted in surprise.

There was something on his back...or _in_ his back. Legs, far too many of them, were clinging to the skin around his spine up to his shoulder blades, where the skin had simply been torn away and the beast, creature, whatever it was, had burrowed its way inside. Its body was long and narrow, segmented, much like a...a...

Sheik nearly vomited. "That's...that's..."

"Impossible," Juichi breathed. "Those are supposed to be extinct."

"What? What are they?"

"Parasites," Juichi said, spitting in disgust. "Come on."

Before Sheik had time to react, Juichi had raised his rifle and fired off a shot. It hit the man in the shoulder and spun him around, though he remained standing...and facing the two of them directly.

Sheik cursed and levelled his own gun, firing without hesitation. He should have taken a moment longer to aim. The shot glanced the man's throat. Blood spurted from the wound, but it showed no signs of bothering the man, whose eyes simply rolled around in their sockets before focusing on the hunters.

Juichi was still reloading his rifle with mechanical precision, eyes never leaving their quarry.

The man gave a hoarse scream, sounding more frightened than angry, charging at Juichi with his arms flailing wildly.

Seeing his partner being kept immobile by his reloading, Sheik positioned himself between them, drawing his longest dagger and holding firm, waiting for the target to reach him.

At the first blow, he simply stepped backwards, out of its reach. On the second, he stepped forward, _into_ its range, ducking beneath the strike and grabbing the man's other arm and using his momentum to pull and toss him aside. The man was sent stumbling into the nearest tree, shoulder first. There was a loud crack, and the man's right arm was suddenly dangling uselessly at his side, broken or dislocated; Sheik didn't care which.

It did not seem to bother the target. He simply shoved himself away from the tree and turned back towards the two hunters...and began shaking. His eyes continued to roll wildly as he seemed to gag. The skin of his face seemed to convulse and shift, seemingly moving as something inside repositioned itself, his breath rasping as if he was being choked, movement at his back barely visible. Sheik felt his stomach roiling when he realised the creature was burrowing itself further inside the man.

"Cagh...erh...mai..." the man uttered, meaningless syllables and sounds.

Sheik had no time to ponder the meaning of it, as Juichi finished his reloading and levelled his rifle once more at the man. He took a deep breath, steadying his aim...and fired. His aim was true, hitting the man right between the eyes, the force of the bullet sending his body flying backwards, slamming into the tree behind him. The body shook and convulsed, but ultimately stopped moving.

For a moment.

Juichi was already rushing forward by the time the giant centipede erupted from the man's back, covered in blood and gore, hissing. Juichi discarded his spent rifle, reaching for the holster on his right thigh to draw a wicked-looking knife with an inwardly curved blade, its blade thick and absurdly sharp—a _kukri_ , the older Sheikah had called it, a souvenir from a trip he had made to a nation in the eastern mountain ranges. He wielded it with deadly precision, already lunging at the centipede before it had a chance to act, swinging.

The centipede reared up, nearly dodging Juichi's strike. Nearly. It lost a pair of its disgusting legs, and yellowish blood squirted from the stumps, smoking where it hit the ground, burning. The creature tried to lunge for Juichi, but Sheik was right behind him, aiming a strike of his own directly at the thing's head.

"Don't touch the blood!" Juichi shouted as he rolled out of their way. "It'll melt the skin off your bones!"

_Could have warned me a bit earlier_ , Sheik thought, adjusting his attack at the last second...which, unfortunately, only resulted in his dagger sliding off the creature's carapace and left him vulnerable...which it took advantage of. He felt its tendrils touch the protective shell of his coat before its teeth dug into it, soon finding the soft flesh beneath and opening an inches-long tear in his side. He gasped and stumbled face-first into a prickly shrub, holding his bleeding side.

"Sheik!"

Juichi leapt into the creature's way, fending off what was bound to be an attack to finish Sheik off...or perhaps make him a puppet like the poor miner. His _kukri_ flashed in the darkness, and a meaty thud was heard. Sheik turned his head just in time to see the centipede, with surprising speed, twist and turn, slamming its back half into the Sheikah and sending him flying out of view.

Sheik was barely back on his feet by the time the centipede had reached him again, hissing and baring its toothy jaws. He'd lost his knife somewhere, so his only recourse was to draw a second pistol and pulling the trigger without even aiming.

He was blinded by the muzzle flash and saw nothing...but he must have hit _something_ judging by the way the monster shrieked and how he found himself knocked aside rather than torn apart. As he fell, several droplets of _something_ hit his left cheek. They _burned_ , and he screamed in pain, trying vainly to wipe the creature's blood off his face, though it only seemed to smear it even more across his burning skin.

There was a crash, and Juichi gave a battle cry. Metal scraped across exoskeleton, and and there was another meaty thud, followed by a shriek. Sheik could not see, his eyes screwed shut from the pain, as well as not wanting to get any of the creature's blood into his eyes.

He was suddenly forcibly turned onto his back, and he briefly struggled before Juichi's voice cut through the pain.

"Sheik, lie still, I'm trying to help you!"

Sheik _tried_ , but it was difficult when it felt like his face was _melting_! Then he felt the rain hitting his skin...and the soothing feeling it brought.

It had been a long time since his last alchemy lesson, but he remembered...acid had to be washed away! There was the sound of something being unscrewed, and then even more water was poured onto his cheek, soothing the burning even more, He dared to open his right eye, finding Juichi above him and pouring a steady stream of water onto him from a metal flask.

"You're lucky," Juichi grunted. "Only a few drops hit you. More than that, and you'd be dead by now."

_That's how it usually goes,_ Sheik thought, not trusting himself to talk at the moment. _Always someone there to save my skin_.

"The...beast," he forced out.

"Dead," Juichi said. "Lost my rifle—damn thing bled all over it." He stopped his pouring and leaned down, inspecting Sheik's cheek. "I think I got it all off you...but I'm sorry, cousin, that's gonna leave a scar. And that..." He gently touched Sheik's side, the pain of which he'd forgotten in his fear of losing his face. "Nothing vital hit—might need some stitches, though."

Finally daring to open both eyes, Sheik saw that Juichi himself hadn't been left unharmed by the fight either—a long tear had been opened across his forehead, and he was clutching the right side of his chest, breathing heavily. Broken ribs, probably.

"What...was that thing?" Sheik asked as he clutched at the wound in his side, trying to staunch the flow of blood, sitting up.

"An old creature we once thought we'd hunted to extinction," the older Sheikah said, glancing at the still twitching carcass of the centipede, the knife Sheik had dropped buried deeply in its head. "They were never given a formal designation, but their nickname was controllers, on account of how they latch onto a person's spine and...well, you saw how it controlled him." He nodded towards the dead miner. "Their feelers poke into a person's skull and...mess with their brain."

"It wasn't fully in control, though," Sheik said. "It was all...twitchy..."

"Because it had just burrowed into him," Juichi said. "We interrupted it in the middle of its adjustment. Any longer, and it would have assumed perfect control—and then we'd have been in trouble. That's why I attacked it right away—hoped to catch it off-guard and keep it there, unable to properly fight back."

"You said it was extinct?"

"We thought they were." Juichi looked grim, once again his focus on the matter at hand. "We need to find their nest and destroy it immediately, before more of them are can be bred." He offered his hand to Sheik, swiftly pulling him to his feet. "You have more weapons, yes? Your knife is lost, I'm afraid."

"I've plenty," Sheik said, indicating the sword handle at his back and his last, unused pistol. "But I don't think I have another fight like this in me tonight."

"Don't worry," Juichi said, shaking his head...and regretting it, judging by the way he winced and touched his bleeding forehead. "If the knowledge gathered by our forebears still applies, then I think I know where to find the nest. Come on."

Sheik didn't question the other hunter, mutely following him back towards the lake, in the direction the controller had been heading. He jammed some bandages into the wound at his side, hopefully stopping the bleeding until he could get some proper medical attention. He didn't even want to imagine what his face looked like right now, but...he couldn't worry about right now. Wouldn't. He was on a hunt.

_...at least the rain makes it hurt less_ , he thought, turning his head so that the rain poured over his cheek.

"They're an old evil," Juichi spoke quietly, glancing around them, as if worried more of the damn things would pop out from the trees. "One of the biggest threats in ancient times...entire villages could be overtaken by the damn things...and they'd spread. The old hunters launched a Grand Hunt, using all their resources to destroy the controllers completely, wherever they were found. For centuries, we have thought they succeeded."

"Then where did this one come from?" Sheik asked, wincing when the movements of his jaw tore at his burned cheek.

"There." Juichi pointed at the western end of the lake and the large structure there. The dam. "The riverbed. The controllers breed in cold, wet environments. Many rivers once flowed from The Mirror...I think the one the miners dammed up wasn't natural after all. Maybe it was diverted there by the old hunters..."

They reached the not-quite-dry riverbed beneath the dam, where the river had once flowed towards the sea. Despite the darkness, Sheik could see them. Dozens of neat, completely round holes in the wet mud, tracks everywhere...and more blood.

"They must have woken up recently," Juichi said quietly. His breath was still rasping slightly. He might have punctured a lung. "Immediately started finding new bodies to take, following old instincts..."

"The miners had no idea what they were uncovering," Sheik muttered.

"We have to end this threat right now," Juichi said firmly, beginning to climb the short hill up towards the dam. "They breed fast, and I've no intention of letting these things spread again."

"How?" Sheik asked.

"We open the dam, and drown the damn things." Juichi grunted, and stumbled. "Ah," he hissed. "Must have broken my ribs...hurts like hell."

"I'll handle it," Sheik helped the unresisting Juichi sit down on a rock by the lake shore, nodding at his elder's insistence on being careful.

The dam was a lot bigger than it had looked from a distance, at least thirty meters across, if not even more. A large wheel at the very middle seemed to control the massive floodgates that kept the lake contained, diverting its water to the mine. To his disappointment, he realised the controllers had gotten to the wheel first, severing the chain connected to the complex system of weights and pulleys in the mechanism. Without the chain, there was no way to raise the gates.

"Shit," Sheik muttered, kneeling by the broken wheel, exhaustion overcoming him as the adrenaline from the fight left his system. He rubbed at his chest, happy that Juichi's device was still keeping him warm.

_Warm..._ he thought. _Juichi's..._

He retrieved the cylinder from within his coat, regarding it with a hum before climbing over the railing and hanging off the side of the dam. It had been hastily constructed, and he assumed that there would be...yes, several deep cracks in the stone.

He shoved the cylinder into one of them, leaving enough of it sticking out to provide a good target. He then climbed back onto the dam, wincing and shuddering when the wound in his side was probably torn open further.

He found Juichi exactly where he'd left him, breathing heavily on his rock.

"Well?" the older Sheikah asked. "What were you doing hanging off the side?"

"Controls are broken," Sheik said. "But I had an idea, and a certain heating device." He drew his last pistol and tested his aim, noting that he had a slight tremor in his usually steady hand. "Damn..."

Juichi had risen to his feet and lowered his mask, grinning at him. "I think I see where you're going with this. Here, use my shoulder."

He bent his knees slightly, allowing Sheik to balance his arm on Juichi's shoulder.

"We have one chance at this," Sheik said. "Only brought three guns."

"Better make the shot count, then."

Sheik took several deep breaths, adjusting his aim. He was exhausted, quite certain he might pass out any moment. He found the cylinder poking out of the dam wall...took another breath...and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out in the rainy night, and Juichi moaned as he was undoubtedly deafened by the blast going off right next to his ear. The bullet made a high-pitched _ping_ as it struck the cylinder...and for a moment, nothing happened.

There was a flash, and a roar as the device exploded violently, unable to contain the chemical reaction. The solid stone and metal of the dam seemed to ripple and buckle under the force of the blast, and a great hole was torn in the mechanism. Water flowed from the newly made hole...and one of the floodgates was torn from its hinges by the massive weight of the lake...and the river had once again begun to rush into its old bed.

It was over in seconds. The controllers' nest was flooded immediately. Sheik doubted it would mean the deaths of the things (they had survived underneath the river until it had been dammed up, after all), but for now, the threat had been delayed.

"Good shot," Juichi said a few minutes later, staring at the newly remade river with narrowed eyes. "I think I'm deaf now, but...good shot."

"Yeah, thanks," Sheik said. His vision was swimming, his face felt like it was on fire, and his side was growing numb. He sank to his knees in the muddy ground. "I think...I'm going to take a nap. Good night, 'Chi..."

He was out before he hit the ground.


	22. The Return

Lor fell through darkness, his head spinning and vision blurring. He kept seeing...images. Brief flashes that didn't make much sense before they were gone again. Some were familiar, others weren't. Every time he tried to focus, the image had already passed, leaving him reeling. Sensations went through him, phantom touches and smells. The Temple, the sounds of a raucous evening, the patrons happy. Lor smiled. It hadn't been so bad, really, on those nights. Satisfied customers, tips, kind hands and words...

More images and flashes, of hot and sweaty days. Chains around his wrists and ankles. He was short, barely reaching up to the man's hips. Hand in his hair, gently ruffling it, a look of sadness directed his way. A woman's cries.

_"Be brave now, son..."_

_"He's just a child! Have mercy!"_

The tongue was foreign, southern, but he still understood it. Had it once been his own...?

Agony erupted in his right cheek, and he tried to touch it, to brush off whatever was causing it, but it did not help. It was like a bee sting, only much worse and never-ending, a swarm pricking him again and again and again and again...

_"He is mine, now."_

_"Please!"_

_"Control your woman before I make an example of her!"_

A scream, and the sound steel on flesh.

_"Idiot! She's worthless now!"_

_"Apologies...will pay...much is...worth?"_

_"Five...red and twelve, no less!"_

Tears running down his cheeks, throat burning from crying.

The words were breaking up, the flashes becoming incoherent. Fingers tugging at his clothes, ripping them off.

_"Take him...teach him how to suck a—"_

Lor screamed, willing the images away. They disappeared, leaving him to spin along once more through the darkness, wondering if he would ever stop.

He wasn't sure if he was alive or dead, nor which of the alternatives he preferred. Being dead meant he never had to go back to that dark, stinking room with the wet hay, daily beatings and...and _that_. That alone was nearly worth never waking up again. The pain, which still lingered far away, was another. He'd been awake at some point, he was sure of it, but the sheer agony of those few moments had left the impression that the waking world just wasn't worth it at the moment...or ever again.

But if he died...he'd never get to see his friends again, or warn them about the danger, about the man who'd put him through hell just to get to them. Regardless of how they felt about him, even if he _was_ just some...background noise...they didn't deserve whatever the slate-haired man had in store for them.

They had to be warned, properly. He had to tell them. He had to wake up.

Wake up...

Wake up.

Wake up!

_**Wake up!** _

Lor fell...and hit the ground.

It was surprisingly soft. And warm. Too warm. He was drenched, sweating like a pig, and he felt like a furnace. Something cool was brushing against his face—a wet cloth? Cleaning him? A soft voice was humming an unknown melody to his left...like a lullaby. He could have sworn he'd heard it before, but where?

His eyes were closed; opening them was difficult. It took every ounce of his strength to force them open a crack, and the bright light forced them shut again. It was too late—the beam had torn through his eyes and directly into his brain, setting off the skull-splitting headache that had been lurking behind the images. With it came the rest of the pain, every bruise and cut flaring to life in what could only be described as a symphony dedicated to the very concept of agony. His leg stood out in particular, felt like it was on fire.

The humming stopped, the cloth ceasing its ministrations. A surprised breath.

"Are...are you awake?"

The voice was female and delicate, quiet and hesitant.

"Lorasi, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?"

He wanted to, he really did. He wanted to shout his warnings for everyone to hear, to make sure no one else could be put through what he'd been, but his body refused to obey him. His limbs were like lead, heavy and unmoving. His throat was dry, tongue unable to form words. Even opening his mouth proved a challenge. In the end, all he could do was make a groan and weakly flutter his eyelids, face scrunching up when the light made the headache even worse.

"My apologies, let me dim the lamp."

The burning light darkened a little, and this time he was finally able to his eyes open for a few seconds. The ceiling was unfamiliar, painted white with not a single crack in sight. His neck wouldn't move, so he let his eyes wander slowly to the left, finally catching sight of the person who was taking care of him. He nearly gasped.

Even through the blur, he could see that she was... _beautiful_. Braided, auburn hair framed a face that could only be described as regal and dignified, her eyes slightly knitted with worry. A pair of thin-framed spectacles perched delicately on her nose, full lips turned slightly down into a frown, almost a pout. Her eyes, a deep azure, nearly rivalled Link's in intensity. A pair of pointed ears completed the ensemble of one of the most beautiful Hylians Lor had ever seen.

The frown turned into a gentle smile when she noticed him looking at her. He couldn't imagine why someone so pretty would be happy to see _him_ , though...

"Hello," she said quietly, resuming her actions with the cloth, cooling him down. It felt like heaven. "It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Who was this girl, and why did she seem to care about him so much?

"...hurts," he managed to force out, surprised at just how scratchy his voice sounded.

"What hurts? Perhaps I can help," she offered.

"...everything."

She looked dismayed. "I see...I will have Doctor Kaura give you some more painkillers when she returns."

She looked...awkward, for a moment, unsure of what to do. Lor wished he could help her with that, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess and all he could think about was how lovely that wet cloth felt against his heated skin.

"You have a fever," she said, apparently noticing how much he enjoyed the cool sensation. "You're recovering, but you'll be uncomfortable for quite some time yet, I think."

"...'s name?" he said, unable to contain his curiosity.

She was taken aback at the sudden question, but quickly masked it with another smile. "My name is Hilda. I am...a friend of Sheik and Link."

Their names seemed to dispel some of the fog that had enveloped his mind, and he immediately tried to sit up, only to be foiled once again by his disobedient limbs. Link. Sheik. Link! Link had been with him, hadn't he? Or had it been a dream? The Ordonian had been so gentle, stroking his hair, comforting him, but...but... "Lnk!" he croaked.

"Shh, shh, it's all right," Hilda said, placing a hand (so cool and comforting!) on his cheek, trying to calm him down. "They're safe, they're both safe. Link is downstairs, Sheik is...occupied. They are both all right, I promise you. As are you, Lorasi, which is just as important."

"H've to tell 'em..." Lor said. "They want to...hurt 'em!"

"The men who did this to you will be dealt with harshly, that I swear to you," Hilda continued firmly, hand still on his cheek. "On my honour."

That did not help very much, but Lor appreciated the sentiment...and he had a feeling Sheik would be more than happy to help her with that.

His throat was like sandpaper. He was going to ask for something to drink, but then Hilda seemed to read his mind, immediately grabbing something beside her. "Here," she said, holding something above his mouth. Drops of water hit his tongue, and he greedily swallowed them. "Kaura said not to give you too much too quickly..."

Who was Kaura?

"How...are they?" he asked, deciding that he needed to know about his friends first. "Link and...and Sheik?"

"They are fine, like I said," Hilda said, brows knitting further, probably wondering if he was delirious (which wasn't far from the truth, if he was being honest).

It was such a relief to hear those words he nearly laughed. "Still...still snogging, eh?"

Hilda went still for a moment, which he failed to notice, but the big smile that broke out on her face soon after was impossible to miss. "I wouldn't know about that, but I'll be sure to ask," she promised him.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the distance. Footsteps approached, and a shadow appeared in the doorway (where had that come from?)

"How is he?" another woman asked. Her voice was familiar, but from where? It was gruff and authoritative, but still...calming, in its competency.

"He's awake again," Hilda said, still smiling (grinning?). "A little out of it, but that is the fever, isn't it?"

"Hmph, no doubt. Sit him up, I need to examine him."

The next few minutes brought only more pain.

* * *

Link winced when he heard Lor begin to whimper again. He wanted nothing more than to him and offer some meagre attempts at comfort, but...he didn't deserve that, did he? He was the one who'd gotten Lor hurt to begin with by leading Ascal to him.

At first, he'd tried to make himself believe it was a coincidence. Ascal was a pretty common name, wasn't it?

It wasn't.

Men matching his description—expensive clothes, slate-coloured hair, fencing blade, thin but strong-looking, a wicked smile—were common as much, weren't they?

They weren't.

Evil men didn't take advantage of naïve country bumpkins to further their agendas and hurt people, did they?

They did.

It was enough to make him want to tear his own hair out, but that would look suspicious, so instead he tweaked the tips of his ears until they turned red, biting his lips at the pain. He should have gotten hurt, not Lor— _he_ should have been the one who was...was tortured for information...

A finger tapped his shoulder, and Link was barely able to stop himself from jumping, aware that any strange actions like that would make his captor even more suspicious. He forced a weak smile on his lips and turned to look at Tao, who was waiting for him to take an action.

"My turn, huh?" he asked, to which the boy nodded. "All right..." He couldn't even remember what cards he had, and even when looking at them it took him a good minute or so to make a decision. It was a bad hand anyway. "Uh...pass."

Tao concentrated on his own hand for a moment before throwing a green rupee onto the small pile on the pile, raising his bet. Link sighed.

"I fold."

Tao grinned at his victory, but seeing the lack of a reaction from Link—positive or no—made him frown, slowly crossing the arms and pinning the Ordonian with a piercing look, the same one he'd given him after Link had thrown up during the night, just after Lor had woken up for the first time. It was a look that stated, quite plainly:

**I know you're hiding something.**

For someone who didn't talk, Tao could say a lot with a simple look. Link wasn't sure if he'd shared his suspicion with Kaura yet (he didn't understand the sign language the boy used when communicating with the physician), but he didn't dare imagine what would happen if she caught on to his accidental betrayal of Lor.

"What?" he asked the boy, hoping to pass it off casually. Instead, it came out strained and awkward, like his own body was rebelling against his desire for everyone to remain blissfully unaware of his stupidity for just a little while longer. It would come out sooner or later, but he just...not _now_!

Slowly, an eyebrow was raised at him.

**Oh, please.**

Evidently, he had no poker face.

"Look, nothing's wrong, all right? I'm just tired, and worried."

**About?**

Curse that eyebrow!

"About Sheik—he didn't come back last night."

That part was true. It was morning, the clock having struck nine not long ago, and Sheik still hadn't returned from his hunt with Juichi. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean something was wrong. They were rooting around in a forest, after all—for all he knew, they could have gotten themselves bloody _lost_. But...what if something _had_ happened to them? What if they'd gotten hurt, or...or...worse? Link would never know...

Tao looked far from convinced, but his eyes had softened somewhat. Link drew breath to continue his half-lying, but a violent knock on the door to the clinic interrupted him.

"Open up! Please!"

The voice sounded desperate, words slightly slurred.

Tao and Link exchanged a look before heading to the door, Link grabbing his sword on his way past his gear. Tao took up position by the door, readying himself to unlock while Link made himself look as intimidating as possible before nodding to the boy.

The door swung open, revealing...

...a hunter?

More importantly, a hunter carrying...

"Sheik!"

Link's sword dropped to the floor with a clang as he rushed over to take the Sheikah's limp body from the arms of the hunter, nearly gasping with surprise at how _light_ Sheik really was. His side was a mess of dried blood, torn flesh and leather, and an angry-looking burn covered his left cheek.

Burnt, he noted, feeling his stomach plunge. More like...it's _melted_.

"What the hell happened?!" he demanded, glaring daggers at the other hunter, who he could only presume was the infamous Juichi. He noted (with some grudging concern) that the older-looking Sheikah had gotten hurt as well, judging from the way he gingerly held his side after being relieved of Sheik's weight. There was also a clumsily-bandaged wound on his forehead, blood having leaked through the thin strips of cloth he'd managed to wrap around his head.

"Unexpected...complications," the Sheikah said with a wheeze, sounding out of breath. "Please...the doctor?"

Tao was nowhere to be seen, having scampered off to Kaura immediately upon seeing Sheik.

"What?! _Again_?!" the good doctor's voice shrieked from the patient room where Lor was recovering. "Is he _suicidal_?!"

Angry, heavy stomps approached them, and Link, despite his near-panic at the state of his...his Sheikah, felt utter trepidation at the sound of them. Kaura's thunderous expression was like a stormy cloud as she quickly surveyed the three of them before jerking her head towards the examination room.

"Get him in there!" she barked, to which Link jumped into action. "You," she added, glaring at the other hunter, "close the bloody door, you're letting the cold in! Then get your arse into the exam room!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Bloody hunters and their bloody, stupid..." she muttered angrily as she followed Link.

You're not dying on me, kid, she thought. Don't you dare try.


	23. The Departure

"He'll be fine, stop pacing."

Link briefly paused in his attempt to circumnavigate the examination room, anxiety gnawing at him for every moment Sheik remained unconscious on the bench. There was so much blood, and the Sheikah was so pale...if it wasn't for the minuscule rise and fall of his chest, Link would've thought him dead already.

And that burn...

He couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt, whatever it was that had caused it. Juichi's explanation had been brief, and further attempts to have him elaborate were defeated when the hunter had passed out in the corner of the room, Tao tending to his forehead wound. Whenever Kaura poked at Sheik's burned cheek, he groaned and whimpered; Link felt guilty for it, but he was elated every time it happened, because it meant Sheik was still alive and not dead to the world.

"How is he?" Link asked, resuming his pacing. He couldn't stay still—not now!

Kaura frowned at his question, having already answered it ten times. "Not nearly as bad as he appears to be," she said, putting the finishing touches on the bandages around Sheik's middle. The wound in his side required a few stitches to close it properly, but other than the bleeding it had been mostly harmless. "If it hadn't been for the blood loss and adrenaline crash, he would've been awake and complaining right about now." She tightened the bandages and moved on to his cheek, hissing at the sight of the burned, blistered, seemingly melted patch of skin on his left cheek. "Now this...this looks like an acid burn."

"Acid? Where would they have come across acid?"

"Beats me," Kaura said with a shrug. "Hunters usually experiment with all kinds of potions and elixirs, not to mention chemical weapons. Perhaps they tried to use one against...whatever they were hunting...and it went awry?"

Link cast a glare towards Juichi. It had probably been one of _his_ weapons that had gotten Sheik hurt. He reeled his dislike in a moment later, however—he _knew_ that whatever had happened had been an accident, and until he knew the full story he shouldn't judge the other Sheikah too harshly...but still...Juichi was clearly older and more experienced. He shouldn't have put Sheik at risk to begin with!

"They did a good job at limiting the damage," Kaura continued, oblivious to Link's internal conflict. "They've washed the acid away with water, and lots of it. The rain probably helped, too. The damage could have been a lot worse—from what I can see it appears to be limited to his skin, no sign of muscle tissue...though we won't know that until he wakes up and tries to move it, of course."

Link paused once more and approached the bench, looking down at the unconscious Sheik, wincing at the burn. I should have been there, he thought. I should have been there to protect you, to have your back, like I did back in Castle Town. Unconsciously, he reached out and traced the slightly pointed shell of Sheik's right ear, moving to smooth down the ruffled hair that had escaped his pony tail. He didn't notice Kaura raising her eyebrow slightly at the action, filing the information away for later analysis.

"Will it scar?" The Ordonian asked after a quiet moment.

"Yes," Kaura replied. "Quite severely...but he's lucky—there won't be any gaps in his cheek since the acid didn't burn all the way through. I can only assume quick thinking on either of their parts ensured that."

"There's nothing you can do?" Link said, wondering how Sheik would react upon waking up and being told his face was forever marked by the events of last night. "Like...cut it, or something?"

"That will only worsen it, I'm afraid," the physician answered with a slight shake of her head as she washed the burned skin thoroughly with more water, looking somewhat guilty when Sheik gasped in his sleep. "Surgery for cosmetic purposes is still a...somewhat new field, and not one I would prioritise when there are life-threatening injuries to treat instead." She glanced down at Sheik's uncovered torso, studying the numerous scars and pockmarks that marred the hunter's skin. The wounds she was looking for in particular were not visible while Sheik was on his back—the stiletto wounds from his would-be assassin.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think he has a death wish," she muttered before retrieving a jar from a shelf. "Ointment, to promote healing and soothe the pain," she explained briefly, unscrewing the lid and dabbing a liberal amount of the white cream on Sheik's cheek before smearing it over the affected areas of skin. "He'll need to apply it every day until it heals fully, and keep the wound clean. An infected burn is...probably one of the worst pains one can experience."

Link nodded. "I'll make sure he cares for it."

And so will Zelda, he thought, wondering how anxious the princess in question was to storm into the examination room. Kaura had told her to remain with Lor, however. Link wasn't sure for whose sake that was—perhaps for both of them.

"Good," Kaura said, covering the burn with a clean compress and doing her best to wrap supporting bandages around Sheik's head in a way that didn't interfere with his sight or breathing. "That's about all I can do until he wakes up, which shouldn't be too long. He'll need a little time to recover from the blood loss, but apart from that he'll be as good as new...or, close to it, anyway."

She turned her attention to the other Sheikah in the corner. "How is he, Tao? Ready for the compost heap?"

The boy rolled his eyes and signed at her for a solid minute or so, the physician nodding quietly to the hand signals that was evidently Tao's way of speaking outside of miming and making facial expressions. It seemed able to convey complex words and sentences, which Link supposed was useful for a future doctor who either couldn't or wouldn't communicate verbally.

"I see...well, best to lay him out, then, if only for comfort's sake. Hylian, give us a hand?"

Link tore himself away from Sheik and helped Kaura lift the unconscious Juichi onto a wheeled gurney Tao fetched. Juichi groaned as he was lifted, but remained asleep as well. Whatever had happened at The Mirror had clearly been absolutely exhausting for the both of them. Tao had bandaged the older Sheikah's forehead, and with his mask down he noticed a particular detail...

He and Sheik will match now, he thought, noting Juichi's scarred cheek, though his wound had clearly been caused by some sort of clawed beast—three big gashes ran diagonally from his ear to his chin. Are all hunters scarred like this? he wondered.

Juichi gasped, and drew a rasping breath, but otherwise remained unaware of being moved.

"Is he all right?" Link asked, not liking the slightly wet and laboured sound of Juichi's lungs.

"Several bruised ribs, and two fractured ones," Kaura said, presumably relaying the same information Tao had given her. "Not much we can do about that other than leave them to heal on their own...and possibly chaining him to his bed so he doesn't move about too much." She shook her head. "That is, if he is as opposed to rest as this one is," she motioned towards Sheik. "Could barely keep him still when he woke up in Kaerwall, even when he could barely breathe."

"Do you know what happened back then?" Link asked, wondering if the physician could shed some light on those events. "Like...who hired the assassin to kill him?"

She shook her head. "Nothing whatsoever," she said. "I was just passing through on my way home after a visit to a friend who lives abroad. The last thing I expected to find was a bleeding Sheikah in the gutter, and not a single soul who cared that he might die. If I didn't take an oath to do no harm when I first became a physician, I would have taught them all a lesson they'd never forget..."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Saving him...back then, and helping him now. And for helping Lor and...just...for everything." He turned to her and a did short bow to her. "I'm not sure how we'll repay you for everything, but I swear we will find a way."

Link swore that her eyes softened for but a moment, though it was soon covered up again by the steely gaze. "Oh, I'm certain the Crown of Hyrule will find a way to compensate me," she said. "Besides, I haven't got any other patients at the moment—would've been a boring few days, with this rain and all."

Tao had left the room, presumably to assure the anxious Zelda of her adopted brother's wellbeing.

"And Tao certainly seems to like all of you—that's rare, for him."

Link returned to his place at Sheik's bedside, looking down at the slumbering hunter, still worried—but he knew he was less than useless while in this state, and needed a distraction. "About Tao..." he began.

"Yes?"

"Is he...related to you? I mean, you don't look like each other, but I figured maybe he's a distant cousin or something like apparently all Sheikah are to each other or something and, and..." he trailed off, realising he'd _immediately_ started to babble. So much for distracting himself, he supposed, feeling a slight blush burning his cheeks.

Kaura chuckled at his flustered tone and red face. "Nah, there's no blood relation whatsoever between Tao and I," she said. "I like to imagine that we have a strict student-teacher relationship—I am training him to become a doctor, after all."

Link wanted to comment that the two reminded him more of a surly aunt-mischievous nephew duo, but he decided to keep that to himself—he wasn't sure how many situations that "Do no harm"-oath of hers covered, after all. "How did you two meet?" he asked instead, genuinely curious.

"Little shit tried to steal from me," she said, chuckling even more as she began to put away the equipment she'd used on the two Sheikah, putting the metal tools for disinfection and cleaning, and throwing away the soiled bandages and cloth. "I was travelling through the western part of Hyrule, stopping for a few days in the Gerudo Valley to resupply—barely even noticed his hand going for my wallet at a market. Caught him, of course, and...well, he'd already been spotted by the guards.

"Thieves are punished severely in the Valley due to the scarcity of resources, no matter how young or desperate—this was apparently his second offence. They were..." Her face tightened slightly, fingers curling into claws. "They were going to whip him. I disagreed, of course, and the only way for him to repay his debt to society—"she snorted—"was to sell himself into indentured servitude to me. I played along, but told him to piss off the second we reached the border. He followed me—surreptitiously, or so he thought—and after a while I just...gave up.

"Figured he might as well come with me since he wouldn't be able to go back to the city—if the guards caught him stealing again, gods know what they'd do to him...but I didn't much like the idea of having a slave." She threw a meaningful glance towards the patient room, where Lor was. "So I made him my apprentice instead—had him learn sign language because he either cannot or will not speak, and taught him to read and write. He's...well on his way."

Link's eyes were glued to the fond smile that had worked its way to her lips as she spoke, wondering if he was dreaming. "So...how old is he? And... _what_ is he? He doesn't look human, or Hylian, or..."

"I am not entirely sure how old he is," Kaura replied, smile slipping away. "Physically, I'd say he's about twelve...but his mental development is further along than that. He was malnourished and starving when I first met him two years ago, and that could have stunted his growth dramatically." She sighed. "As for what he is...your guess is a good as mine. Best I can come up with is some sort of mix between Hylian and Gerudo, one generation removed. But that's not important."

"Of course not," Link said, agreeing.

Kaura finished cleaning up her equipment and gave the slumbering Sheikah a final check before leaving the room. "Come on, farm boy," she said, "let's leave them to their beauty sleep."

"I'll be right with you," Link said, turning back to Sheik.

Kaura paused, raising her eyebrow once more, but choosing not to comment once again, leaving him to...whatever he was going to do.

Link waited until her footsteps faded away before leaning down, taking a moment to just listen to Sheik's breathing, taking in his furrowed eyebrows—his cheek must still have burned, in while he slept.

"You scared the hell out of me today, you know that?" Link whispered, brushing Sheik's hair out of his face. "I'm tempted to do what Kaura said—chain you to your bed so you can't get yourself hurt again. But I guess that's something I'll have to get used to, isn't it? Maybe it'll be me, next time..."

He kissed the Sheikah's forehead gently, feeling more than a little pleased when Sheik's expression relaxed a little, as if the kiss had been a healing spell...or a painkilling one, at least.

A shuffling sound made him turn just in time to see Tao's grinning face duck out of sight, his rapid footsteps disappearing in the direction of the parlour. Face turning red, Link tore after him, wondering what the boy would demand for his silence on the matter.

* * *

Ascal turned at the sound of someone approaching him from behind. He would never cease to be surprised at how quiet Art could be, despite his size. He'd gotten within ten metres before Ascal had noticed him—either Art was getting better, or Ascal was growing sloppy. He wasn't sure which was preferable.

"Yes?" he asked, turning to face the large man.

"The traps are ready, boss," Art reported. "Just say the word and we'll block the road."

"And the men?"

"Eager to kill."

"Good...though I would like to reiterate that the princess is not to be harmed. We need her. The rest are expendable, and yours to do with as you please."

He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired. He hadn't eaten in a while, of course, so that was probably it. That, and the waiting. Age must have been catching up with him, because he could not recall ever being so... _restless_. Perhaps he was simply eager—it wouldn't be strange, this was without a doubt the most important thing he would ever do. The things he had promised the young lord...he had to live up to his words.

"Double- and triple-check that everything is in order," he told Art. "We only have one chance at this."

"Got it, boss," Art said, turning to leave before hesitating. "You all right?"

Ascal's eyes widened slightly. Was Art actually... _worried_? That was so...precious! Or perhaps he was making sure that his next handful of coins wasn't going to disappear with his boss in case Ascal suddenly up and died, or something. He gave the man a relaxed grin. "Oh, just a little hungry, that's all."

Art studied him for a moment, and nodded. "I'll see what I can do." And then he was gone, disappearing among the trees, heading to inspect the traps, keep the men focused and...get Ascal something to eat, apparently.

Now _that_ honestly surprised Ascal enough for him to widen his eyes and stare after the man for a few seconds.

He _really_ wants those coins, doesn't he? Ascal thought.

* * *

Sheik picked at his bandaged cheek, growling when Zelda batted his hand away with an annoyed look.

"Don't pick at it," she said lightly, though with a slight undertone of warning in her voice. "It needs to heal, and tearing the bandage will only make things worse."

"It itches," Sheik muttered.

"That means it's healing."

He returned his attention to the mirror. His torn coat had been mended by Link, who turned out to be quite skilled with a needle (of the non-surgical kind, that is), and the rest of his clothes had been cleaned. His hat had disappeared during the hunt for the controllers, and he didn't have a replacement, which was a bit of a sore point. He'd had that hat for so long...

Apart from his uncovered head and the ruined collar he'd used as a cowl, he looked like a hunter again. The only thing that marred the impressive image were the bandages that secured the compress over his cheek, but he was willing to live with that...if only he could scratch at the mending, scarring skin beneath it.

He took a breath and turned to the princess, giving her a nod. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Zelda replied, checking her own equipment. "We can wait another day, if you need the rest—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted, shaking his head. The motion made him slightly dizzy, but not enough to convince him that he needed more rest. "If Lor is ready to move, then so am I."

Waking up after the almost disastrous hunt had been...well, quite awful, if he was being honest. The blood loss had made him feel terrible and weak, but when Link told him that Lor had woken up while he was gone (after receiving the tongue lashing of a lifetime from both the Ordonian and the princess), his own injuries hadn't mattered at all. The mere sight of his best friend alert and awake (albeit weak and shaken from the experience) had been like ambrosia, or one of Erd's revitalising tinctures.

When he'd begun asking Lor questions about his captors, however, he'd seized up, and Sheik had realised too late that it might still be too upsetting to recount what he could remember...but how else was Sheik supposed to find out who he had to kill? He was certain that whoever had taken Lor was somehow connected to the slavers who'd attacked Link's village, but if he didn't have any names or faces to go with that information, he had absolutely nothing to go on unless he could get his hands on one of those bastards and make him talk...and then _pay_ for what he'd to Lor.

Link had assured him that Lor would be able to talk about it later...just not now, which he'd accepted. Sheik didn't blame Lor at all for not wanting to relive it again, even just in memory.

He and Zelda descended the staircase and headed for the parlour, where Link and Lor were waiting. Link was dressed in his hunting gear again, and Lor was wearing loose-fitting, comfortable clothes that wouldn't bother his wounds or put unnecessary pressure on his leg. A pair of wooden crutches were leaning against the sofa he was sitting on. He gave Sheik a small smile when he and Zelda entered the room.

"You look like yourself again," Lor said.

 _He sounds tired,_ Sheik noted, smiling back. "I _feel_ like myself again. And you? Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, gesturing at his bandaged and braced leg. His face fell slightly. "I'm sorry about—"

"No apologies," Sheik said with a shake of his head.

"But I'll just slow you down, and—"

"I don't care," Sheik insisted. "As long as the men who hurt you roam free, you're not leaving my sight. If that means we go a little slower, then I'll see it as an opportunity to enjoy the sights of the countryside even more." He gave Zelda and Link a pointed. "Do you not agree?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Link replied.

"I love the countryside," Zelda said. "Could watch it for days."

He threw the princess an incredulous look, but nodded anyway. "See? No problem at all—and it will be nice to have a carriage. We can take turns sleeping inside it."

"I suppose..." Lor agreed with a downcast look.

"Come on," Zelda said, handing him his crutches and helping him up from the sofa, carefully supporting him as they headed for the door. "Let's get you seated."

"Thanks, Hilda," Lor said with a shy smile, still unaware of her true identity. Just as well, really. The shock of learning who had been caring for him would probably kill him.

"Hey."

Sheik turned to face Link, who quickly took advantage of the lack of an audience to plant a quick kiss on his lips, careful to avoid the bandages. Sheik felt a blush coming on, which made his cheek itch even worse, but he bore it with dignity, smiling and giving Link a kiss of his own.

"That was sneaky," he admonished the Ordonian. "And dangerous. What if someone saw?"

"I thought you didn't care," Link said, smiling mischievously.

After the brief explosion of anger from the ex-farmer because Sheik got himself injured, he had begun to give Sheik quick and brief reminders of the feelings they'd revealed to each other in the moat of Castle Town, as if he was afraid that Sheik had forgotten it. A discreet, chase kiss here, a gentle brush of fingers against his cheek there... Sheik didn't really mind, though he was always worried that someone would catch them in the act. He knew Zelda wouldn't mind (after all, she didn't mind his history with Lor), but that sort of information was dangerous in the mind of a princess who loved to embarrass her little brother whenever she could.

"I don't, but I'd rather not have my sister urging me to kiss you at the campfire, however," Sheik said, glancing around just to make sure no one was watching...or listening. "She'll find out sooner or later, but I'd rather it be on my terms."

"I get it," Link said, nodding. "I'll be expecting payback when we get to the Studio, though," he continued.

"Oh, you can count on that—I did promise we'd be... _exploring_ whatever it is that we have, after all." Sheik even gave him a wink, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his burned cheek. The Ordonian beamed at that, which made him grin back. "Let's get going before Kaura drags us out."

That made Link's face pale considerably. "Right."

The carriage was ready and hitched up by the time they emerged from the clinic. Kaura closed and locked the door firmly before giving the façade a close look, making sure that the shutters were all in place. She then hung a sign on the door, which said:

_**Temporarily closed** _

Nodding with satisfaction, she turned towards the carriage and climbed into the driver's seat beside Tao. They were both dressed for travel, their bags loaded on top of the carriage roof. Lor was sitting inside the carriage itself, looking close to falling asleep already. Zelda was climbing into Mera's saddle, patting the horse's neck gently. Link went to check Epona and Maladict's harnesses and saddles, wanting to make sure they wouldn't have to stop to make adjustments. The carriage was already going to slow their progress as it was, and they had little time to spare if they wanted to reach the Studio before the glacial passes froze over.

"Are you sure about this?" Sheik asked the physician quietly. "We can look after Lor ourselves—"

"He is my patient," Kaura said simply. "Knowing the route you're taking, I want to make sure you have learned how to care for him before I leave him in your hands."

"To the border, then?"

"To the border."

It was a good arrangement. By the time they reached the border between Termina and the mountainous region that sheltered the Studio from the outside world, Lor would have recovered enough to move around on his own (though with the crutches), as well as sit in a saddle. The three of them would take turns with him in front of them, like they had when taking him to Clock Town in the first place. This trip would hopefully be a bit more sedate in pace.

"Thank you, again," he said, giving Kaura the most grateful look he could muster. "Both for Lor and...and us," he gestured to the group as a whole. "And Kaerwall—"

"Just upholding my oath," she said, pointedly ignoring the sceptical look Tao was giving her, clearly indicating that there was more to her actions than she said. "Besides, I'm sure one of you idiots will get yourselves hurt again, and where will you be without me to fix you up?"

"If you say so," he said, smiling as he walked towards Link, who was holding Maladict's reins out for him to take. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," the Hylian confirmed.

"Wait!"

Sheik knew who it was before he turned around. The wheezing breath was enough.

Juichi was coming up the street, walking gingerly and holding his side, as he had when he'd left the clinic after waking up three days prior. He had "no time to be injured" he'd said, saying that he had to begin researching the controllers immediately, if he was to track down and destroy the others that were surely roaming the forests around the Mirror still. After all, at least four other miners had disappeared along with the one they'd found and put out of his misery. Sheik had offered his services again (with the caveat that Link be allowed to accompany them as the only uninjured fighter among them), but Juichi had assured them he could handle it. He'd already recalled three other hunters from nearby towns, and intended to meet up with them to deal with the threat as a larger group.

Which was why it was odd to see him hurrying towards them.

"I'm glad I...caught you," the older Sheikah said with another wheeze, causing Sheik to wince in sympathy pain. He'd broken a rib once, and the pain of breathing had been agonising. He could only imagine what Juichi felt like, with nearly half his ribcage in some state of fractured or bruised. "Wanted...to wish you...luck."

Sheik took his outreached hand and shook it. "Our thanks, cousin, but you did not need to trouble yourself—we assumed your wishes were implied when you left."

"They were," Juichi agreed with a nod. "But there's...something else." He reached into his pocket and fished out a sealed envelope. The wax was black. Official business, then. "I need you to take this to Master Impa."

"What is it?" Sheik asked, taking the envelope.

"Just a copy of my report on the controllers and your brief stay here," he replied. "I've sent them by raven, of course, but I want to make sure that the reports reach the Studio. Everyone must be warned, just in case the things are spawning elsewhere." His smile drooped a little when he looked at Sheik's bandaged cheek, but he did not mention it. There wasn't anything he could have done anyway, Sheik had told him. In fact, if it hadn't been Juichi, he probably wouldn't have much of a face left. "So, in case my raven hasn't reached the Studio, give that to your aunt, please."

"Will do, cousin," Sheik replied, shaking Juichi's hand once more, clasping his wrist tightly as a final greeting. "Good hunting."

"And to you, cousin, to all of you."

With that, they were off. Sheik didn't mention how he'd seen Link and Juichi exchange stiff nods before they'd parted, or how the Ordonian kept looking behind them as they rode for the city gates. That was a conversation for later, when they had the time and privacy to talk hunter to apprentice-hunter.

Instead, he rode up to Link's side and gave him a smile. "Ready to become a hunter, Link?" he asked.

If the sun wasn't already shining that day, Link's dazzling smile would surely have made it appear. "Hell yeah!"

And so they continued their journey to the Studio, unaware of the danger that was waiting for them on the road...and the disaster that would follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their departure from Clock Town was a bit rushed, but I needed to get the story moving again. Hopefully I can go back to fix this at some point *headdesk*


	24. The Secret

Compared to the mad dash to reach Termina and its capital, leaving it was done at an almost sedate pace. It was partly because of Lor's injuries, which discouraged them from accelerating to a speed that would cause the carriage to shake and jump from the bumps in the road, but also because they wanted to actually enjoy the journey as well. None of them were in danger (for once), and while they couldn't dally for too long, they could still take some time to appreciate the views and sights the Terminan countryside could offer before they began climbing the north-eastern mountains on their way to the Studio.

The first few weeks almost felt like a camping trip, if Sheik was perfectly honest. Like they were just travelling for the heck of it, just to enjoy life itself. They slept in tents (and took turns spending the nights in the carriage), ate around the campfire, talked about everything and nothing. Well, Kaura mostly grumbled about the ridiculousness of what they were doing (and what kind of camping trip is complete without someone complaining about having to "sleep rough", as they called it, anyway?), but she was easily silenced whenever Tao smiled widely. _He_ was clearly enjoying himself, and that seemed to be enough for the ornery physician.

Sheik was starting to feel better as well, his body slowly recovering from the blood loss from his hunt with Juichi. His cheek was healing, too, but that was more annoying than anything because of the itching it brought with it. He didn't much appreciate the nightly applications of ointment and fresh bandages, but at least he could get Link to do that, which offered a nice excuse to have the Ordonian touching him in a somewhat intimate manner. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he couldn't help but notice that Zelda looked particularly attentive when this happened...but then, she had always been protective of him—maybe she just wanted to ensure that Link was doing a proper job.

"It's looking much better now," Link muttered quietly during this nightly ritual, carefully cleaning the burn before slathering more of Kaura's ointment onto the damaged skin. "It's started to scar."

Sheik hummed. "Well, now I have an excuse to wear my cowl up at all times," he said, wincing slightly as the movement of his jaw tugged at the still-tender skin. Link tutted and continued his gentle ministrations. In the corner of his eyes, Sheik noticed Zelda staring intently at them, only half-listening to Lor's stories of his time at the Temple.

It wasn't really appropriate talk to be directed at a princess, but Lor had no idea that "Hilda" was of royal blood, and he did his best to clean up what he said because of Tao's presence by the fire...though the boy was engrossed in whatever lesson he and Kaura were going through, a thick volume opened and resting in the doctor's lap. Every now and then Tao would sign something, or draw something on a small, handheld chalkboard, in response to a question she asked. Kaura wasn't about to let her apprentice off his education just because they were on the road, it seemed.

Once Link was finished and had re-bandaged Sheik's face (after a quick examination by Kaura to ensure quality), they decided to retire for the night. According to the rota, it was Sheik's turn to sleep in the carriage with Lor, and no amount of arguing against it, saying that "Hilda" or Kaura or Tao would be better off inside, would help.

"Fair's fair, Sheikah," Kaura had said with finality, despite the fact that Sheik _knew_ she relished the opportunity to sleep inside. "Get your arse inside."

And so Sheik found himself lying on the seats in the back-end of the carriage, while Lor claimed the front ones. They were the widest, and he needed to be able to stretch his leg out while it healed. The two chatted for some time (mostly about how scary Kaura was when she performed an examination) before Lor began to doze off, his words slurring and trailing off until a quiet snore began emanating from his side of the carriage. Sheik smiled slightly at that. Lor had always had a cute snore.

He laid awake for some time afterwards, listening to the sounds outside. One of the windows was slightly rolled down to allow fresh air inside—allowing him to properly listen for intruders as well. He heard the cracks of their fire, the slight murmurs from the others as they talked before falling asleep, the wind rushing through the trees around their campsite.

Soon, the others had joined Lor in the oblivion of sleep as well, leaving Sheik alone with his thoughts. They weren't pleasant. Mostly, he kept rethinking his actions during the hunt, and how horrible the controller had looked, and how wrong things _could_ have gone—

There was a snap. He sat up abruptly, the carriage rocking slightly from the sudden shift in weight, pistol drawn. He was out the door and on the ground within a second, barrel pointed in the direction the sound had come from. His actions were so quick and sudden it had Link jump from his seat by the fire, sword half-drawn before realising it was only Sheik who had come bursting out of nowhere.

"What's wrong?" Link half-whispered, trying not to wake the others, who were tightly gathered around the fire, sleeping peacefully.

"I heard a noise," Sheik replied just as quietly. "Didn't you?"

"I did," Link replied with a nod. "Was probably just an animal, though. We're in wild country now—bound to be plenty of critters around to make noise at night. Thought you'd be used to that, as a hunter."

Sheik held himself tense for a few more seconds, staring intently into the darkness, daring something horrible to appear from the darkness to attack them, before relaxing and dropping his gun, replacing it in his belt. It was a bad breach of proper firearm treatment, but his holsters were inside the carriage, and he had uncocked it anyway, just in case.

"It...has been a while since I spent a night out in the woods," he admitted, feeling embarrassed now. Of course it had simply been some sort of woodlands creature that happened to step on a branch. The creatures _he_ hunted usually kept to themselves and had to be sought out—they rarely blundered into a campsite unless they were desperate, and as far as he knew this part of Termina had been more or less cleaned out by other hunters. "And...given the events of the last month, perhaps I'm a bit trigger-happy."

Link gave him a warm smile. "That's all right—I don't blame you. Don't worry, though, I'll keep a close eye on things, and an ear out for trouble. Go back to sleep."

Sheik hesitated for a moment before nodding and climbing back into the carriage, carefully placing his pistol back in its holster on the floor of the carriage, and climbing back into the cocoon of blankets that covered the seats. He remained vigilant for another fifteen minutes, however, just in case Link was wrong...but after a while his eyelids began to droop, and sleep began to drag him into its lair...

He was brought back to the land of the living by another sound...but this one was different, and coming from inside the carriage.

Lor was mumbling in his sleep, tossing and turning his head.

"I don't...no...please...leave me..."

Sheik's stomach plummeted slightly. It was another rough night, then. By the time tears began to leak from the corners of Lor's eyes and his breath hitched with wet sobs, Sheik was leaning at his side, ignoring the twinge in his side from the stitches being pulled. His hand found Lor's and gently stroked the knuckles, feeling the tremors from the tightly clenched fists.

"Lor, wake up," he said quietly into his friend's ear. "You're dreaming...it's just a dream...you're safe, no one is going to hurt you ever again..."

Lor woke with a start, fists flying wildly around him. One grazed Sheik's nose, and he leaned back, giving him space. The black-haired boy's breaths came out in gasps and sobs as he fought off the imaginary attackers from his dream, undoubtedly a reliving of his torture...the thought alone made Sheik angry, but he kept himself calm. Finding a furious, red-eyed Sheikah at his side after waking up from something like that was hardly going to be of any help.

"Lor," he whispered. "It's me, Sheik. You're safe."

Lor's head turned to him, eyes wide as they studied Sheik carefully before the tension slowly left his body...and the sobs began wracking his frame. Sheik's arms were around him immediately, a hand carefully stroking his neck.

"It's okay, I'm here, shhh..."

It happened every few nights or so. Nightmares, so vivid that he was sure he was back in his cell, beaten and abused, his brief escape having been nothing more than a daydream, that left Lor a sweaty, anxiety-ridden mess. It wasn't the first time Sheik had held his friend close at night...but he didn't mind. This was Sheik's fault, after all. He knew now that Lor's kidnapping had been a result of Sheik and Link's interference with the slaver operation in Ordon, a retaliation. Lor had suffered because of them...because of _him_. Sheik was no stranger to guilt, and this was just another burden to bear...though he would do it gladly, because he would do anything to make Lor feel safe again. If that meant holding him through the night, then so be it.

"Sh-Sheik?" Lor asked.

"Yes?"

"I-I'm sorry for waking you—"

"I wasn't asleep, don't worry."

"But I—"

"No buts."

Lor shook, which only made Sheik tighten his hold. "I'm so s-stupid...just a dream..."

"A terrifying one," Sheik said firmly. "No shame in this." He leaned back to look Lor in the eyes, softening his gaze. "You've been through such...horrible things. It is no surprise it has left a lasting impression on you...and I won't coddle you by saying it will go away anytime soon. Only time will heal this...and you need to give yourself that time, to accept that this will happen many more times...and that I will be there for you when it does. We all will."

He held him for an indeterminable time, until the sobs died down. He then kissed Lor's forehead, carefully pushing him to lie back down on the seats. He was satisfied to see that the tears had stopped, and that Lor looked tired again, eyes blinking blearily.

"Do not be afraid of going back to sleep," he said quietly. "I'll still be here—and if I am asleep, then wake me."

"I don't want to—"

"Wake me," Sheik repeated slowly. "I'm counting on you to do that. I have nightmares of my own that I might need you to rescue me from." He grinned slightly at that. "We'll protect each other, right?"

Lor nodded, giving him a tiny, exhausted smile in return. "Yeah..."

"Good," Sheik said, kissing Lor's forehead again, propriety be damned, and returned to his own improvised bed.

Silence descended upon them once more, but Lor's snoring did not join the symphony of sounds around him. Sheik, however, was starting to doze off once more...

"Sheik?"

He hummed. "Mmm?"

"You said...you said you had nightmares of your own," Lor said, voice uncertain. "What are they about?"

Sheik bit the inside of his cheek. "Many things," he answered after a minute. "Usually about the creatures I have hunted and fought...lycanthropes in particular...they're terrifying. Link was lucky—he doesn't know what it is like to be _stalked_ by one, to have to outwit it." He sighed. "Hunts that went badly are probably the mainstay of my dreams...but occasionally...when something's reminded me of it...I dream about my sister."

Lor didn't answer, but the sound of shifting fabric from his side of the carriage signalled his discomfort. Sheik felt a pang of guilt at that.

"I miss her," he continued, not sure why. It wasn't a subject he mentioned very often...and usually only to Zelda. Lor knew, of course, but not the details. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Lor."

"It's all right," he replied. "I just...I'm sorry I reminded you."

"Don't be—I want to be reminded. I never want to forget her." He cleared his throat, making himself more comfortable. "That said...we should go to sleep. Dawn's not far off, and we have to make good time when we cross the border."

"Yeah, I know...good night, Sheik."

"Good night, Lor."

"And...thanks."

"No problem."

Two sets of snores were heard from within the carriage soon after. By the fire, Link was poking at the fire with a stick, trying to coax it to stay alive for a little while longer before he had to add more wood to it, a little harder than necessary.

They'd been on the subject of siblings before, so why hadn't Sheik ever mentioned having a sister to him?

Apparently, Link wasn't the only to keep secrets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say I needed to get the story moving, but what do I write? More fluff! I'm terrible!


	25. The Ambush

It was a cold autumn morning, one of the last before the inevitable crossing over into winter. Despite the presence of the sun in the sky, the air was freezing, an insidious cold that crept into the many layers of Sheik's clothing, making him shiver in his saddle. From the looks of the others, they weren't faring much better. It was a bad sign—if it started snowing before they reached the next village, they'd be in trouble. He himself would be fine, along with Link and Zelda, but the others... Tao was wearing his _boots_ , for Goddesses' sake! The boy had walked around barefoot since the day they'd met!

It was a good thing that, according to his map, they'd reach some form of civilisation within the next two days or so, where they could hopefully trade for some furs or other types of warm clothing. Anything to stave off the cold that would greet them as they began climbing the mountains.

Beside him, Link was quiet in his saddle, only half-heartedly keeping up his end of the conversation with Zelda. That worried Sheik as well. The Ordonian, once engaged, usually took some effort to shut up (Sheik's favourite method was a quick, surreptitious kiss when no one was looking), but for the past week or so he had been unusually silent. Any attempt Sheik had made to find out the reason had failed miserably.

"...wouldn't you agree?" Zelda finished, looking at the other Hylian with an expectant look.

It took Link a few seconds to realise she had stopped talking and was waiting for some sort of response, at which point he cleared his throat, his eyes flickering from side to side as he tried to come up with an acceptable reason, and said, "I guess."

She beamed, unaware of his utter lack of engagement in the conversation. Sheik was almost impressed. Had it been him, Zelda would have zeroed in on his non-participation immediately and given him hell for it. Then again, they _had_ known each other for most of their lives at this point, and she had yet to figure out Link's tells yet...unlike him.

"Dodged that bullet, huh?" Sheik muttered to Link as Zelda turned her attention to the two pair in the driver's seat of the carriage, chattering excitedly about something she'd read in a book lent to her by Kaura. She'd taken an interest to medicine, it seemed.

Link gave him a less-than-enthused shrug. "I guess," he repeated, not looking at Sheik.

"What's wrong?" Sheik asked, keeping his voice low so that only Link could hear him. "You've been quiet all week. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," Link replied a little too quickly, shaking his head. "Just...thinking."

"About?"

"Many things."

"Such as?"

"How cold it is, for one."

Sheik hesitated for a moment, nodding slowly. "Yes, I suppose it is rather chilly."

 _Mission failed,_ Sheik thought, returning his attention to the curving forest road ahead of them. It was impossible to see more than a dozen meters ahead at any time, the trees grew so thick around them. _Have I done something wrong? I haven't acted any differently, have I? Is he annoyed that we have to keep our relationship hidden for the time being? He's not...jealous of Lor, is he? Does he_ know _about me and Lor? But that was all in the past, and not about...we weren't..._

The road curved again, and the woods around them opened up slightly into a small clearing where a small creek ran beneath a rocky outcrop. It looked like a peaceful area, and Sheik was about to suggest that they take a break here (and make another attempt to get Link to open up again), when he heard a loud snap.

They were in a forest. There were animals and living creatures everywhere, going about their daily lives according to their instincts. Branches were sometimes stepped on and broken. It was a very normal, common sound in environments like this.

But this one was different. It was deliberate, made at just the right moment. Timed. Each hair on his body stood to attention as every instinct in him went on alert, the very fibres of his being warning him of impending danger.

_A signal!_

He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late. Another crack, followed by a loud whistle, and the road ahead suddenly disappeared, obscured by the tree trunks that had come crashing down across it.

"Ambush!" Sheik shouted, pulling at Maladict's reins to turn him around. "Turn back, turn back—!"

Another whistle, and a second pair of trees were felled, blocking the road behind them, sealing them into the clearing. Sheik drew his sword, as did Link. Zelda drew a pistol and one of her daggers as the three of them drew closer around the carriage, forming a protective cluster. In the corner of his eyes, Sheik saw Tao climb inside the carriage through the window, urged by Kaura as the physician reached for something inside her bag, but her hand was obscured by the lip of the roof.

He scanned their surroundings, trying to find a way out before their attackers rushed in, gritting his teeth when he realised there was no way to escape with the carriage—it was too big to go around the felled trees, and with Lor's broken leg...

There was a flash of movement among the trees, and the ambushers emerged from their hiding spots. Rough-looking men, carrying all manners of blades and blunt weapons...but not a single gun among them, Sheik noted. That made things a little easier, he supposed, but they were outnumbered at least two-to-one, or more.

 _Bugger me,_ he thought. _Just my luck..._

The men stopped at the tree line, regarding their prey with cold eyes, and Sheik wondered what they were waiting for.

"Hello there!"

Next to him, Sheik heard Link give a small gasp. On the outcropping, a man stood. He was wearing a long, nondescript coat with a tall collar, hiding the lower half of his face. A top hat covered his head, but a long, braided, slate-coloured ponytail dangled at his neck. A rapier hung at his belt, while numerous other blades hung in sheaths in various other places. Strapped to his thigh, nearly concealed by the coat, was a _kukri_.

He stood in a relaxed pose, thumbs hooked into his belt, looking like he was simply greeting old friends, surveying the group whose path he had just blocked. In particular, he studied Sheik closely...or more particularly, Sheik's weapons. Just like Sheik was doing to him.

 _Impossible...a hunter?_ Sheik thought.

The man regarded them all for a moment, as if waiting for something. Finally, he sighed and tipped his hat up, revealing his amber-coloured eyes. In the morning sun, it was almost as if his eyes _glowed_ , and from the crinkling of the skin around them, Sheik knew he was smiling. Widely.

"I was wondering when you would finally deign to show up," he said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting for you? I realise taking dear, sweet Lorasi to a doctor would force you on a detour in Termina, but surely you did not need to _linger_?"

Sheik's grip around his sword tightened. So this wasn't just a random group of bandits—they were the ones who'd hurt Lor. He ground his teeth together so hard it felt like they might crack under the pressure. He was about to answer, but the man wasn't done.

"Oh well, no matter. You're here now, and that is what's important." He paced a little back and forth on his outcropping, hands firmly off his weapons, making no overtly threatening movements. "Although I see you have picked up a couple of companions...might I have your name, my ladies?" He directed his gaze at Zelda and Kaura, who looked as tense as Sheik felt.

A quick glance revealed Link's face to have gone ashen, his position in the saddle slumped and...fearful? That was odd. Link had dealt with bandits before, and while this man seemed to be a different breed, he was still just that—a man. They just needed to find an angle, an ideal moment. Sheik wished he hadn't left most of his pistols in the carriage—all he needed was one good shot.

"Hilda," Zelda replied, sticking to her cover. Her hair was loosely tied back, and wore nothing that would single her out as a princess. Sheik hoped it was enough.

"Doctor Kaura," Kaura replied icily, glancing behind her and into the carriage. Did Lor know who had ambushed them? A sudden need to be at his friend's side struck Sheik, but that would probably set off a fight...if that was what this man wanted, that is.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," the man said with a cordial nod. "My name is Ascal. May I ask the boy's name?" His eyes went to the carriage, having spotted Tao before he'd climbed inside.

"No," Kaura said curtly.

"Fair enough," Ascal said, nodding.

Sheik was desperately trying to find a connection to that name, but could not for the life of him find it. He had never heard about this Ascal before, but he had a creeping feeling that he _should_ , that there was something familiar about him apart from the trappings of a hunter that he wore, something significant.

Then Ascal's eyes landed on Link, and he chuckled. "Good to see you again, Link. It has been quite some time, hasn't it?"

If anything, Link appeared to sink further into his saddle when he felt Sheik's piercing gaze land on him.

_What?!_

"I never got a chance to thank you, you know," Ascal continued. "The two of you left in such a hurry, and for a while I wondered if I'd lost the trail completely...but then I remembered how kindly you led me to Lorasi's...place of employment, shall we say? Without him, I would never have found you again, so thank you."

Sheik's hand shook around the grip of his sword. Ascal knew Link? Link knew Ascal? What the _fuck_ was going on?!

Ascal's eyes locked with Sheik's, and the grin on the man's face seemed to widen. "You cost my master a great deal of money, young Sheikah. I have come to settle your debt...with interest."

"You mean the slave ring I took out," Sheik said, refusing to be intimidated by this smug bastard, regardless of how rattled he felt. His heart was pounding, cold sweat soaking him to the bone. If Ascal knew Link, what _else_ did he know? Had Link been lying all along—a double agent? But why? And how? "If I were your master, I'd worry more about covering up my part in something so unsavoury rather than attempt to extract monetary recompense from a blood-eyed nomad," he said. "I don't have a single rupee on me, much less an amount that would be anywhere near large enough to settle the imaginary debt I have accrued."

"On that account, at least, I have some good news," Ascal said. "I'm not here for the money—I'm here for your eyes."

Several things happened at once Ascal said that.

To his left, Link drew up to his full height and threw a fearsome glare in Ascal's direction, positioning himself and Epona between them in a protective fashion. To his right, Zelda did the same, facing the men Ascal had brought with him and aiming her pistol at the biggest of them, daring him to step closer. From her seat at in the carriage, Kaura carefully dropped the reins to the horses, rearranging her position. Sheik could've sworn he saw something catch the sunlight—glass?—before it disappeared up her sleeve.

"You want him, you'll have to go through us!" Zelda exclaimed, her voice anything but wavering, portraying the same strength Sheik felt sapped of.

 _This is because of me...I've put them all in danger because I...because_ we _...interfered..._ He glanced at Link, noting that the Ordonian was refusing to look at him.

In the woods, a bird called. Link looked up, eyes widening.

"Touching," Ascal said, looking anything but intimidated by their show of strength. "But ultimately pointless. We outnumber you, and we have you at a severe disadvantage. I'm certain you could take out, oh, a few of us, but that will only serve to enrage the rest. And what will happen to your companions then, Sheikah? The women...well, my men haven't seen hide nor hair of the fairer sex in _weeks_ , I dare not imagine what might happen to them! And dear Lorasi, and the other boy...pretty enough for a desperate man, I imagine." He pointed at Sheik, winking. "Come now, surely you realise that struggling will only make this worse for everyone. How about a deal? Come with me willingly, and I leave the rest of them in peace. You have my word."

Sheik saw the lies in the man's eyes, and knew right away that no matter what he did, the others would get hurt. He shook his head. "You must think I'm an idiot if you believe I would ever agree to such an obviously false agreement," he growled.

"It was worth a shot," Ascal said with a shrug. "True, I have no reason to leave your friends in peace, and I _am_ rather annoyed with how long you kept me waiting. Besides, I have...other business to attend to elsewhere, and the more thoroughly I finish here, the better." He spread his arms wide. "You heard the nomad, boys! It's on!" He caught Sheik's eyes once more. "So...how do you want to go about this? Who draws first blood?"

Sheik was trying to calculate how quickly he could be on that outcropping, cutting the fucker down, when a voice in the distance called,

"I do!"

A sharp crack and a flash among the trees, and one of Ascal's men fell dead to the ground, the side of his head exploding in a shower of blood and gore.

The sound made Zelda jump, which in turn made her pull the trigger of her pistol. Thankfully, her aim was true, and the man she'd aimed at also fell, a bright flower of red blooming on his chest and staining his clothes.

Link shouted and threw Epona into a gallop, charging at Ascal seemingly with the intent to knock him off his perch, but another blur of movement charged out of the trees and knocked into the Ordonian, throwing him out of his saddle.

Another gunshot from among the trees, and another of Ascal's men died. They charged too, intent on taking Zelda down...but the princess had been taught how to fight since she was a child...and how much of an advantage a rider had over footmen. Mera's mighty hooves rode them down as her daggers lashed out to cut their faces and whatever else was within her reach.

A group of them approached the carriage, but Kaura smoothly swung herself down from the driver's seat and crossed her arms disapprovingly, glaring at them over the rim of her spectacles, as if daring them to come closer.

They dared, and the first man was rewarded with a glass vial breaking in his face—and burning it judging from his screams and the smoke rising from his boiling flesh. Drawing her arm back, Kaura reached into her pocket and flicked out a scalpel, looking more intimidating than an old-fashioned knight in full armour. Her gaze was so fierce it made the men hesitate...and then a plume of fire erupted from the window, the doctor barely flinching from the suddenness of it. Lor had found Sheik's guns, then.

Sheik allowed himself a moment of pride for his companions, before he noticed that Ascal was staring intently at him from the outcropping, a silent challenge.

 _One I'll gladly accept,_ he thought, spurring Maladict on towards the small cliff and jumping from his saddle, barely making the distance and rolling to his feet in front of Ascal, who looked oddly pleased at the way the situation was turning out. Below, Link had risen to his feet and was currently fighting a pair of Ascal's men in the small creek, doing an admirable job of keeping them busy. There was no anger right now, except what he directed at the slate-haired man who'd hurt Lor—his friend!

"Good," Ascal simply said, before his rapier and _kukri_ appeared in his hands, drawing them faster than Sheik could see, and attacking.

It was brutal. Ascal looked slim and lithe, but his blows were like sledgehammers. Each one Sheik managed to block with his sword made his arm shake and teeth rattle...and the fucker was _fast_ , too, blades lashing out like a whirlwind, continually trying to keep slip past Sheik's defences. One blade wasn't enough, and Sheik was forced to draw his shorter, curved blade from where it hung on the small of his back, the _kukri_ nearly knocking it from his hands at the first impact.

 _Can't...stay defensive,_ he thought, realising he was being pushed back towards the edge of the cliff. He waited a moment, and pushed forward. Rather than trying to dodge or block Ascal's attacks, he turned into them, striking out with his own blades, aiming to find a hole in the man's stance or movements.

There were none. Wherever Sheik struck, Ascal was either already gone or meeting his blade with the _kukri_ , which threatened to wrench Sheik's weapons from his hands due to how devastatingly heavy those blows were. The rapier kept finding his skin, nicking and cutting where it could, and Sheik's front was soon dotted with red from multiple wounds. One lucky thrust from Ascal had nearly taken out Sheik's right eye.

Whoever Ascal was, he was much faster and stronger than him. The fight had to end soon, or Sheik had a dreadful feeling that his eyes _would_ be presented to Ascal's master quite soon. But that was why he was attacking now; probing, feeling, waiting. Strong or not, Ascal was still a man, and men could still be...

Sheik paused, fastening his eyes on a point behind Ascal, widening them and opening his mouth while sucking in a breath.

Ascal paused, looking behind him. Sheik grinned.

 _Oldest trick in the book_...

By the time Ascal's attention returned to him, Sheik had drawn the one pistol he'd kept under his coat. Ascal's amber eyes widened comically, and Sheik savoured that look of surprise, annoyance and...resignation? He didn't care. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet entered Ascal's head through his frontal bone...and stayed there. Ascal remained standing for a moment before dropping his weapons...and then landing on his back, eyes staring unblinkingly into the sky.

The forest grew still once more, and only now did Sheik realise that his companions had dealt with the rest of their attackers. Zelda and Mera had pulverised their opponents, and Link stood triumphantly over his pair in the creek, their blood slowly colouring the water red. Kaura was methodically cleaning her scalpel with a piece of cloth, at least one man having had a terminal disagreement with it. Through the window of the carriage, Sheik saw Lor and Tao huddled protectively with each other...and a smoking pistol in Lor's hand.

Speaking of guns... Sheik turned his attention to the road behind them. From the trees, another figure was emerging. They were holding their side gingerly, a long rifle slung over their shoulder. Sheik recognised the short, blonde hair immediately, and couldn't believe his eyes.

"Juichi?!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yo, cousin!" Juichi called back, giving him a small wave. "Short time no see!"

They met in the middle of the clearing, Zelda, Link, and Kaura joining them. Sheik kept Link within his line of sight at all times, wary. The Ordonian noticed, and a hurt look passed over his features before he seemingly steeled himself.

"What are you doing here?" Sheik asked the other Sheikah, who was calmly cleaning and reloading his rifle. "Aren't you supposed to be in Termina, hunting controllers?"

"A bunch of other hunters showed up, responding to my call," Juichi explained. "Turns out some of the other workshops didn't like the idea of having an old enemy like that return, and sent some of their best. And as for why I'm here...well, your recruit there told me he had a bad feeling about something." He pointed to Link for emphasis. "And asked me to follow at a safe distance, just to keep an eye on you until you reached the passes." He glanced around them. "And it seems he was right."

Sheik turned to Link right then, anger rising with him like a volcano, threatening to erupt at any second. "You...have a _lot_ of explaining to do," he said quietly, voice like a hissing snake. "How the _fuck_ do you know each other?!"

Link winced, looking ashamed. "I...we...I met him in Castle Town, but I didn't know he was...that he would...Sheik, you have to believe me!"

Sheik didn't, and was about to tell Link this when Juichi cleared his throat. "No offence, cousin, but this really isn't the best place or time to have this discussion. For all we know, there might be more of them around here. I suggest you get going—leave the carriage here, and cross into the mountains as quick as possible. They won't be able to keep up with you there."

"What about you?" Sheik asked, distracted from his anger by the sheer logical tone in Juichi's voice.

"I'll see what I can find out about our friend up there," Juichi said, nodding towards the outcropping, where Ascal's body lay. "His outfit reminds me of a hunter's—I want to see what else he carries. Could be a rogue element, in which case the Master needs to be informed. I'll send a raven with my findings."

"And if he has other men waiting?"

Juichi looked offended at that. "Please, it's not like I'll examine him in the open. Trust me, I'll be fine." He looked at Link and Zelda. "My friends, please get my cousin out of here. He'll only be safe once you reach the Studio."

"We will, Juichi," Zelda promised, giving him a hug that surprised the Sheikah greatly. "We owe your lives—do not hesitate to call upon us to repay this debt."

"Getting Sheik to safety will be payment enough," Juichi assured her.

There was a flurry of activity as Lor was transferred from the carriage and into Sheik's saddle, and the horses pulling the carriage were cut loose. Kaura climbed into one with Tao in front of her.

"We'll stick with you for a while longer," the physician said when asked. "Safety in numbers, and all that. Don't like the idea of meeting more of these troglodytes with only the two of us. If you don't mind, of course."

The look was directed more at at "Hilda" than Sheik, but he nodded anyway. In front of him, Lor was deliberately not looking at Ascal's body, eyes cast directly down. "He's dead now, Lor," Sheik muttered. "He can't hurt you again."

There was no response, and Sheik sighed. Back to square one, it seemed. And then there was Link...

They were going to have a _long_ discussion, and soon. He only hoped that the Ordonian had good answers, or there would be hell to pay. They cleared the obstacles Ascal had blocked the road with by riding around them, no longer encumbered by the carriage, and continued on their way north, leaving Juichi to stare after them, waving.

* * *

"Be safe, cousin," he whispered before turning his attention to the fallen hunter-like man on the outcropping. Climbing up while ignoring his aching ribs, Juichi soon found himself studying the man's clothes. High-quality gear, though made to look simple. The _kukri_ was custom-made, as was the rapier. Shaking his head, Juichi slung his rifle onto his back and grabbed Ascal under the arms, quickly dragging the limp body into the woods, away from view just in case there were more of them out there. About an hour away, he deemed himself safe from prying eyes from the road.

His study was meticulous. Juichi undressed the dead man, making notes of everything he wore and carried. A pendant with a symbol he did not recognise hung around his neck, and Juichi carefully cut the thong on which it hung and looked closer at it. Some sort of stone was placed in the centre, catching the sunlight. In an inner pocket, there was a small book—a journal of some sort.

It seemed to be written in code, but Juichi had always been good with those. He just needed a little time, and he'd crack it easily enough. He could already see a possible solution, in fact, and he went to work, writing down what he could understand in the margins with a fountain pen he always kept on his person for such situations. He'd always been thought of as rather bookish by other hunters, and he knew they sometimes made fun of him for preferring to stay in his workshop and work on new tools rather than traipse through muddy fields in search of a boggart, but he didn't care. As long as he could make himself useful in some small way, like decoding Ascal's journal, then it was worth all the japes, all the—

Beneath him, Ascal's eyes slammed open, staring at him with bestial fury. For a moment, Juichi gaped, and then he reached for a blade, intending to end the man once and for all—

A pair of strong arms locked themselves around his own, keeping him immobile. How? Had he been so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed someone sneaking up on him?

Beneath him, Ascal snarled. His incisors were long and sharp...had they always been so pointed? They looked like...fangs... Something came to Juichi's mind, a passage from a long-forgotten book he had once read...and he panicked, trying desperately to break his attacker's hold, but the man's grip was like iron.

"Boss," his attacker said harshly, pushing Juichi down towards Ascal. "Now!"

The amber eyes widened, and suddenly Ascal's fangs bit into Juichi's throat, prompting him to scream as his strength immediately left him, and lethargy took over. His vision darkened, and his body went slack. Ascal pushed him onto his back, drawing back to grin down at him for a moment, before biting his neck once more, draining him of blood.

Staring up at the noon sky, which was turning as dark as night, Juichi knew he was dying...and all he could think was,

_A vampire...a fucking vampire..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er...happy Valentine's Day?


	26. The Truth

Sheik's vision was swimming by the time the sun began to set behind the mountains to the west, turning the last rays into sharp knives that stung whenever he cast a glance towards them. The trees were beginning to thin out around them, but they were still far from the nearest village. Not that they could take the chance on staying in any of them, anyway. He didn't even trust the main road at the moment, having led the group onto one of the lesser known paths that were, in essence, more of a detour than a direct route...but he refused to take the chance on the main road in case Ascal had left more of his men ahead in another ambush.

Ascal...

Tearing his eyes from the narrow road ahead, he cast a glance behind him, counting the number of horses and riders. three horses, five riders apart from himself. That seemed to be right. He wasn't entirely sure. He was seeing double—the adrenaline from the fight had left his system, and the long ride was simply adding to the exhaustion that was threatening to topple him from his saddle any minute now. They should be resting, but...what if someone were pursuing them?

"Everyone still here?!" he dared to shout, figuring that sound of their horses' hooves would give them away more than his hoarse (heh) yelling. "Sound off!"

There was a chorus of "Here" from four distinct voices, Kaura responding for both herself and Tao. That was good. They were all there and conscious.

"Sheik!" Link shouted in return. "We need to stop!"

Sheik held back his angry bark, knowing that now was hardly the best time for the inevitable argument he was going to have with the Ordonian...and the angry questioning that would precede it. Instead, he growled into the wind whistling around him and shook his head.

"No!" he called back. "We keep going!"

"For how long?!" Link asked.

"Until I can be sure we're not being followed!"

 _Or the horses collapse beneath us_ , he added mentally, noting that the horse that had been drawing Kaura's carriage was struggling to keep up, evidently not used to going this speed for so long. Not that Maladict, Epona, or Mera were doing much better. Maladict was completely soaked with sweat and breathing heavily, and Sheik could have sworn that his gait was becoming less and less steady.

"Sheik!"

Zelda was close behind him now, shielded slightly from the wind by his larger frame.

"We have to stop, at least for a little while! The horses are exhausted, and Lo— _we're_ not much better off!"

Sheik was about to say no, turning back to make it easier for Zelda to hear him, but the look on her face shut him down immediately. Where she had been stoic and calm during the battle with Ascal and his bandits, she now looked close to panicking. Her eyes were wide, her position in the saddle betraying more than just tiredness from the long ride.

_What has her so scared? Surely there isn't—oh..._

He wanted to smack himself for his stupidity. Of course. He'd been too busy fighting and then trying to get them away from the situation to truly realise what had transpired during the ambush. She was already in the beginning stages of a panic attack, and the last thing they needed right now was for an accident to befall her. Lor didn't seem to be in good shape either from his position in front of her, but he was doing his best to maintain a brave face. His leg must have been pure agony at that point...though he seemed more concerned about "Hilda" than himself.

They'd ridden for hours...surely they were somewhat safe now? Had they put some distance between them and their possible pursuers, at least? Groaning, Sheik pulled on Maladict's reins and forced him to slow down, holding up a hand to signal the others to do the same.

"All right, but we're not stopping here," he said, pointing at a narrow path between the trees. "We follow that until we're hidden from view."

Without waiting, he turned off the road and onto the smaller path, pushing ahead while looking back to ensure the others were following him. They were. A wayward branch smacked him in the face, but his collar protected most of his face from the strike—though his eye was rewarded with a poking from a leaf. He snarled and cut the branch with his sword.

Now that they had slowed down, the exhaustion was growing worse, along with his anger. There were far too many secrets with Link for his liking, and he was damn well going to get some answers when they stopped!

He heard a gasp from Lor behind him.

 _But first to make sure everyone else is all right,_ he forcibly reminded himself.

They continued on the path until the trees narrowed too much around for the horses to go through, at which point they went off _that_ path and found a sheltered copse of thick oaks and shrubs that, with a little forced perspective, mostly hid them from onlookers.

Sheik nearly collapsed when he climbed down from Maladict, his legs barely supporting his weight. He'd suffer for this ride in the morning, that was for sure. The others seemed to be having similar thoughts, except for Lor who had yet to be helped from his saddle. Zelda was staring blankly into the distance, surprisingly steady. Sheik cursed inwardly and hurried towards her, gently taking her hand and leading her away from the group. None of them needed to see this.

"Link, help Lor," he ordered the Ordonian when he made to follow them. "No fires!"

He led the princess by hand over a small hill that hid them from the view of the others, and then had her sit down on a rock, kneeling down in front of her while ignoring the protests of his tired muscles.

"Zelda," he said quietly, realising she wasn't looking at him. "Zelda, look at me." She did not respond, and Sheik sighed. He removed his glove and gently touched her cheek, which at least made her eyes focus a little. "Zelly, can you hear me?"

Her gaze slowly found his, and while he was glad to still have her with him, he noticed that her breathing was growing rapid, soon turning into hyperventilating as the anxiety set in.

_Shit!_

"Zelly, I need you to breathe slowly for me, okay? Can you do that? Breathe with me—slowly in, and slowly out. Breathe as deeply as you can, hold it...and then release."

He exaggerated his own breathing, pleased when she did her best to follow him. It took several long minutes, but she was soon matching his own breathing pattern perfectly, though tears had long since begun to stream down her cheeks. Once he was certain she wasn't going to suffocate herself from breathing too fast, he touched her shoulder gently, drawing her attention to him once more.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently, knowing she was anything but.

Her lower lip trembled. "I...those men...I kil—killed them...I..." The tears flowed anew, and Sheik could not stop himself from drawing his sister into a tight hug, ignoring how it put pressure on his bandaged cheek. "They...they attacked and I...I couldn't..."

"Shh, it's okay," Sheik whispered, knowing his words were less than useless but speaking them anyway. "They were attacking us, and you were simply acting in self-defence. They were bad men, and would have done far worse to you than you did to them, had you not attacked."

Zelda sobbed, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her nails digging into his arms. "T-They would have...have killed you...and...and...and..."

"And the others, and you," Sheik said with an agreeing nod. "You probably saved us all with that charge. I'm grateful, not just for my own life, but Lor's, and Tao's, and Kaura's, and...Link's." He had to force the bitterness in his voice away, nearly surprising himself with just how angry he still was with him. The logical part of his mind told him there was a perfectly normal explanation to all this, but that part had never been the loudest... He forced his thoughts away, focusing on his sister once more. "It looks like all that training paid off, huh? Impa will be pleased to know it wasn't all just a waste of time."

The princess, despite her discomfort, let out a little snort of laughter at that. Impa had been the one to suggest the training in the first place, but her teaching methods involved a lot of claims that it was all a pointless exercise and that the time could be better spent on just about anything else. It had only served to spur Zelda on further, which was probably the point. It always felt a little oxymoronic, though, to be so adamant about _and_ dismissive of the training, but then Sheik couldn't argue with the results.

As for Zelda's condition now...well, one's first kills were never easy.

"I'm pathetic," the princess said with a sniffle, staring at her boots with a look of abject misery. "Look at me...b-bawling like a ch-child..."

"Killing someone is never easy," Sheik said, tilting her chin up to look at him with a finger. "Do you think I fared any better when I was forced to raise my blade against another person for the first time? I was an utter mess for days afterwards."

 _Though, that wasn't_ just _because of my first kill..._

"W-When did you...?" Zelda asked, trailing off when his face soured slightly.

"It...I would rather not talk about it," he said, trying not to remember the rainy night he had taken his first life. The circumstances alone were...nightmare-inducing. The cause...more than just, in his opinion. The problem had never been the _reason_ he'd killed them. "I was...young," was all he said.

 _Too young_ , he added to himself. _We were..._

Understanding seemed to dawn on her as Zelda connected the dots, and this time it was _his_ turn to be drawn into a hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have known."

"It was a long time ago," he offered helplessly, wondering how they'd switched roles so quickly. "Water under the bridge, and all that."

"Don't say that," she whispered harshly, her previous sadness replaced with fury on his behalf. "Were I in your position, I would never have let go...I _wouldn't_ let the water pass under the bridge..."

"That is just a recipe for bitterness," he said sadly, pulling a little away from her, satisfied to see that her tears had dried up, and all he saw now was his older sister, fuming with indignant anger for an event that took place nearly a decade earlier. Perhaps not the healthiest diversion, Sheik supposed, but better than the panic from before. "I am sorry for bringing it up," he said, carefully wiping her face with his sorry excuse for a handkerchief, quickly checking it for bloodstains before going about it.

She shook her head. "Don't apologise...I shouldn't have let myself get to this point...but his head...it just...came apart—"

"Gave him a quick end, if nothing else," Sheik said, giving her a small smile. "Shows that you've got a warrior's instinct." He patted her shoulder and stood her up, noting that her stance was far more stable than earlier. That was a relief—it seemed he'd averted her going into shock, though she was still very shook up by the experience. He certainly couldn't blame her for that.

Truth be told, he felt quite shaken himself, but that had less to do with the fight and more to do with...well, everything else, really. Link, for example... He sighed heavily, knowing he couldn't put if off any longer. That white-hot rage rose in his chest again, threatening to drown out everything, but Zelda's hand was suddenly on his non-injured cheek, bringing him back to the waking world with a gentle stroke.

"I know you're angry," she said, voice shaking slightly. "But you have to give him a chance to explain himself. Don't jump to conclusions, and don't interrupt him. Let him speak. Understand?" Her voice was uncertain, but her eyes were anything but, and Sheik knew that these weren't suggestions, but orders.

"Why do you care so much?" he found himself asking her, wondering why Zelda was so adamant about a farmer who she'd only known for a month or two. "He could be a traitor—"

"Do you honestly think he is capable of that, Sheik? When you really, really think about it? Can you truly imagine Link, the man you were willing to trust with your life on a hunt, who has saved your life at least twice, would do such a thing?"

Sheik _did_ try to imagine such a thing. He tried to put an image of Link and Ascal conspiring to kill him, to cut out his eyes, to put on such an elaborate scheme that began with a toppled slavery operation, an image of someone he could grow so close to, plan and commit to a plan like this...and found himself failing. Every scenario ended with Link attacking Ascal with vengeance-driven rage on the behalf of Sheik, Lor, his family, his entire village, and finishing on the lovely mental image of Ascal's head on a pike somewhere.

_Why is it always heads on pikes? I need to see the twins about that..._

He slowly shook his head. "I...I suppose not. I will...hear him out."

"Good," Zelda said, smiling.

"You didn't answer the question, though," he reminded her, giving her a level stare. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I like him," she replied. "It is fun to spend time with him, and...truth be told, it sort of feels like he is a really old friend, rather than a new acquaintance. And besides, I want you to be happy."

Sheik filed away the old friend-thing for later contemplation, but focused on the last part of her sentence in particular. "Happy?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"You've always been a good judge of character—and I cannot imagine my little brother would be happy if his beloved turned out to be a traitor." She winked at him, grinning evilly when he felt the blush rising unbidden to his face. "Aha, so it _is_ true!"

On instinct, Sheik cast a panicked glance around them, hoping no one was listening. He felt ever so slightly foolish for doing so given their location in the middle of the bloody woods, miles from civilisation, but then one could never be too sure.

"How the hell did you find out?" he asked in a hissing voice. There was no point in trying to conceal his and Link's relationship (such as it was, for now), his reaction had given away the truth in a clearer way than words ever could. "We were so careful!"

Zelda chuckled. "I shan't reveal the secrets of my network," she said coyly. "They are far too covert to—"

"It was Lor, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice deadpan.

She nodded sheepishly. "He didn't mean to, however," she said hurriedly. "He was still heavily drugged, and it just slipped out, I think, and really all he did was ask if you two were off snogging. Please, don't be angry with him."

For the second time, Sheik gave a heavy sigh. "I won't be angry with him," he muttered, even if he really wanted to be. But no, he couldn't truly blame Lor for blabbing given his condition at the time. "Though I may go hang myself from the nearest tree..."

"Why?" Zelda asked. "Because I found out that you and Link are together? Sheik, the stories you've shared from the brothel were _far_ more shocking and worthy of suicide, if you ask me."

"Do you have a rope?" he asked, turning away to conceal his even worse blush as his face grew steadily hotter and hotter. He didn't bring up the fact that his stories had practically been shared at (a figurative) gunpoint in the shape of a certain adoptive sister who had _demanded_ to know about his exploits. He hadn't expected her to devour _those_ stories in such an...eager way. The wine they drank those nights may have had something to do with it, of course, but she had practically salivated at certain points. It worried him slightly, that.

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, drawing him close. "I'm happy for you, little brother," she said quietly. "I really am. I just want you to know that you don't have to hide the relationship from _me_ , all right?"

He chuckled bitterly, his mouth tasting slightly sour. "Depending on how our next talk goes, there might not _be_ a relationship to hide," he said quietly. His heart was thumping, not just from embarrassment, but the lingering anger...and fear. Why? He and Link weren't _that_ close yet, hadn't been together for that long...hell, hadn't done anything more than kiss, but...somehow, he felt closer to the Ordonian than anyone else, apart from Zelda, maybe...

"Like I said," the princess muttered as well, "give him a chance to explain. Now go, before we turn into blubbering fools while worrying about hypotheticals."

He made to move, but paused. "Ask him to come to me, will you?" he asked. "I promise I will rein in my temper, but...it is still not a conversation I feel comfortable having in the middle of camp."

Zelda studied his face closely for a moment before nodding. She gave him an encouraging punch to the shoulder. "Give him a big kiss when you're done, yes?"

Sheik's glare could have _killed_.

* * *

Link kept throwing glances in the direction Sheik and the princess had gone, wondering what they were discussing. Or, he knew _what_ they were discussing; he just didn't know what they'd do about it. His stomach was roiling, as it had since the moment Ascal had revealed himself to the group, giving away Link's (involuntary) involvement with the man.

That look Sheik had given him...it had been filled with a mix of emotions—the expected anger and betrayal had been bad enough, but the _hurt_ had been the worst. It was a look that signified many things, chief among them that Sheik had just lost all trust in him. Trust he'd spent a lot of time building up in the first place, all lost because of he'd _stupidly_ assumed that the nice stranger had been just that, rather than a manipulative bastard who'd not only used Link's naïveté to stalk, kidnap and torture Lor, but annihilated Link and Sheik's tentative relationship with but a few words.

And it's all my fault, he thought. I made all this happen. I should have realised it the second he offered to help me—city folk don't do that. Nobs don't do that! And why didn't I say something when I still had the chance? When Lor woke up, I should have told them. I should have said that it was my...that I was...

But that was just it. Had he told them, he'd be in the exact same situation...though, perhaps Sheik would have been more open to explanations if they'd still been safe back in Clock Town, rather than in the middle of the wilderness with only the most necessary of supplies, a great deal of it left behind with the carriage.

Hopefully, Juichi could make use of it, perhaps even bring it back to the clinic.

Not that it'd help _them_ , but...perhaps something could be salvaged, if not his trust with the others. He didn't deserve it anymore, especially not Lor's. How the other boy could even stand to be in vicinity of him was...well, he supposed it was a consequence of just that: Lor _couldn't_ stand, much less walk, on his own.

He was sitting beside Link on the tree stump right now, in fact, probably wishing he could get away from the farmer, wishing he'd died in the ambush, or perhaps even—

"Hey," Lor's soft voice said, almost whispering. "Are you okay?" He was looking at Link with concern in his eyes, hand paused in mid-air above Link's shoulder, as if worried that touching him would set him off.

Link began to speak, but his voice came out as a rough croak. He cleared his throat, looking away. It was too hard, looking into the black-haired boy's kind eyes. He didn't deserve it. "Yeah...just thinkin'..."

"Hm," Lor grunted, letting his hand slowly land on Link's shoulder, squeezing gently. "About?"

Link's walls hadn't been particularly strong to begin with, but Lor's earnest interest in what was bothering him broke them down. "I'm sorry," he whispered, wishing the tears gathering in his eyes away, but it had no effect. "I'm so sorry, Lor, I didn't know, I...I..."

"Shh, slow down," Lor said, taking his hand from Link's shoulder, only to wrap his whole arm around his shoulder, drawing him close. "It's okay, it's okay...we're safe now..."

"It's my fault," Link sniffled, wiping the tears away, only for them to replaced by fresh ones. "I led Ascal to you...it's because of me you were...were taken and...and..."

"You didn't know," Lor said soothingly, echoing Link's words. "I could tell...I know you didn't do it on purpose...you're not a cruel man, Link. He was messing with your head...all our heads..." He drew Link tighter to him. "But he's dead now, and he can't hurt us—any of us—anymore. We're safe."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place," Link said, anger at himself rising in his chest. "I shouldn't have been so stupid—I should have known he wasn't...that he was actually..."

"No," Lor said firmly. "It's so easy to tell yourself that now, when you know everything...but you didn't, back then. And dwelling on it...it won't help. Trust me, I know that better than anyone."

Link lifted his gaze to finally look at Lor, whose eyes were also wet at this point. "Lor..."

"You knew, didn't you, when I first woke up in Termina? Who he was?"

Link nodded.

"I'm just...why didn't you say anything? Were you ashamed? Afraid?"

"Ashamed, afraid, angry...all that and more," Link confessed. "I threw up when you first said his name..."

"I figured as much," Lor replied. "I...I had a feeling, but I didn't want to ask, in case I was wrong...he researched us all before he struck...asked me things, told me things...offered me things. I could have been rich, if I'd just told them...but I refused..."

Link listened, the words doing nothing to relieve his guilt, which was expected.

"But...even when he showed up...when he confirmed my suspicion...I'd already forgiven you, even when I don't think there's anything to forgive." He smiled, tightening his one-armed hug. "It wasn't your fault," he said firmly. "No matter what Sheik may say. He can take it up with me, if he wants."

Link swallowed. "Do you think he...?"

"He will be angry," Lor said, not a hint of humour in his voice now. "That's Sheik's way. I don't think he's shown you yet, but he has a frightful temper. When he's angry, he acts before he thinks...and unless Hilda can calm him down, you'll be on the receiving end. Just know that he does it because...well, he was frightened when _he_ showed up, when he said he'd come for his...his eyes. He won't...he'll be hard to reach, but...just let him yell."

"He's been angry a lot around you?" Link asked.

"Sometimes...but never _at_ me," Lor said with a regretful shake of his head.

"I see..."

Lor hesitated, and then rested his head on Link's shoulder, drawing a shuddering breath. "Link...can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Are we...are we friends?"

The position made it difficult to see Lor's expression, but Link could tell from the rigidness of the body beside him that he feared the answer.

"O-Of course," he said firmly. "Of course we're friends...what made you...why would you ask?"

"Just...some things he said," Lor said, relaxing slightly, though he still maintained some tension in his shoulders. "I know he said it to get to me...to get me to give in, but...it still hit, you know? Say something often enough and it starts sounding true..."

"It wasn't," Link said, wrapping his own arm around Lor's middle (while careful not to jostle his healing wounds), so that they were both holding each other now. "All right? It wasn't true. You're my friend, you're Sheik's friend, you're Z—Hilda's friend...hell, I think you're even Kaura's friend when she's not being scary."

"I heard that, brat," the physician's voice said from some distance away, where she and Tao were...Goddesses knew what they were doing, hidden behind the horses.

"See?" Link whispered.

Lor chuckled. "She _is_ scary, isn't she?"

"I'll show you scary..." Kaura was heard muttering, which only made them laugh.

It ended soon enough, however, when Zelda emerged from the trees and headed straight for them. She had a kind expression on her face, though slightly troubled, which served to make Link's nerves return with full force.

"Link," she said. "Sheik would like a word with you."

"Is he...does he—" Link began, but she shook her head.

"I've done what I can," she said earnestly. "Don't let him bully you, though. Make him listen to you."

Link nodded and stood up after extricating himself from Lor, aware that they were both giving him encouraging looks. They were more optimistic about this than he was, that was for sure.

"Also, be honest," Lor said suddenly. "He may be upset, but he can still tell when you're lying."

"That...did not help," Link said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Just making sure you don't do anything stupid."

* * *

Ard stared down at the piece of paper with hard eyes, studying the sketch he'd been working on for the last three quarters while trying to be as critical as he could. In truth, it was absolute garbage. Give him lab equipment or weapons—those he could sketch all day long. Hell, sometimes even a landscape would be particularly eye-catching, causing the urge to draw to well up within him. Prison's Peak, for example. He didn't feel any strong ties to his homeland of Lumina, but that mountain had always drawn his attention and imagination.

Perhaps that was why none of his sketches this afternoon had turned out well. He _didn't_ want to draw his current subject, but Impa had ordered him to, as the most "artistically gifted" of the current occupants of The Studio. So here he was, scowling at his latest product and tearing it to pieces, annoyed to find that he was running out of sticks of charcoal. If he was wasting so much of _that_ on a simple sketch, how much ink would he waste when doing the final illustration?

In front of him, behind the solid steel bars, his subject snorted and whined quietly, curling up in a pathetic heap. All an act, of course, and one Ard would never fall for. His brother, bleeding heart that he was, probably would, which was why Impa had refused Erd access to this part of the castle for the time being. A good thing, that.

He heard the heavy, wooden door at the entrance to the dungeon open and shut, the metal reinforcement causing the impact to reverberate through the stone floor. He recognised the footsteps and the ever-present metallic tapping that accompanied them, which was why he did not turn to acknowledge the newcomer.

"How goes the sketching?" Impa asked, stopping a safe distance from the cell and studying the occupant for a moment before turning to look at him. She grimaced at the pile of ripped and crumpled-up failures on either side of him. "You know, paper that fine is expensive."

He nodded from his position on the floor, looking up at her. "We can afford it," he said simply.

"For now," she replied. "So...is it the lack of cooperation, or...?"

"Partly," he said with another nod. "Difficult to figure out anatomy."

"Curled into a ball, I can only imagine so," she said, looking back at the cell. "I see he's trying the act again."

"Can't tell the difference between us," he muttered.

"Neither can I, most of the time. It's only when you speak I can tell which one's the arsehole."

He grinned at that. "Arseholes live longer."

"Keep that attitude up and we'll see," she warned, but her tone was playful. She was in a good mood today, leaning on her silver-tipped cane in a relaxed pose. That was unusual. The flooding of the lower storage rooms had destroyed half their winter supplies. He'd expected her to be a living tempest for the rest of the season. She must have sensed his confusion, because she then said, "The exit's finished. Broke through the last barrier this morning."

Ah, so that was it. Good to know. Her smile was actually quite nice, when it wasn't meant to be threatening. Absentmindedly, he began to outline her head on his paper, quickly filling in the features of her face. If she noticed, she didn't comment, only let him continue until he had enough on paper to finish the drawing without a model before turning back to the cell.

"Oi, you, that's enough," she said, glaring at the shivering heap. "Neither of us is falling for it, so you might as well—"

She frowned she felt the air in front of her face being disturbed; the clawed hand hand been an inch from taking off her nose. The beast's eyes were glowing blue, narrowed with absolute hatred as he tried to gore her ineffectually through the bars of his cell. He snarled, drenching the front of her coat with spittle. A single step closer, and she would have been dead. More than one hunter had met their end this way.

Impa looked down, apparently satisfied that the line she'd painted on the floor was out of the beast's reach. "Anything else I should know, apart from the lack of a proper illustration?" she asked, staring into the lycanthrope's eyes. There was more intelligence behind them than she was used to. This subject was a good one. It was an uncomfortable thought (and filled her with self-loathing), but the loss of Angen had been worth to secure it. If only the stupid man had listened and stayed until the rains stopped, but no...

"Smarter than usual," Ard said, glancing at the page of notes he'd made while attempting to finish a proper sketch. "Might remember life from before the turning."

"Dangerous, then," she said. "Does he understand what we're saying, or is it just tone-based?"

"Doesn't obey commands," Ard replied. "Not a dog. Might understand what we're saying, but not likely to respond."

"Except when he knows the jig is up," she said. "Didn't take you long to try and kill me, did it?" she asked the lycanthrope. "He may be smart, but he's still a beast, and not a peaceful one."

Ard shrugged. What was he supposed to do with that statement? Of course he knew the lycan was dangerous. "My brother—"

"Not to enter," she affirmed. "I'd rather not suffer your vengeance, thank you very much."

"Good."

"I'd like to begin the next set of tests when you've finished your drawing," she said. "Erd has prepared another serum."

"Got it."

"Let me know when you're finished." She turned to leave, pausing for a moment. "Oh, and supper is in half an hour. Ayla's cooking tonight, so I'd strongly consider staying down here until the disaster has ended."

Sound advice, which he took. Judging from Erd's pained sounds after they went to bed, it was the right thing to do.

* * *

Sheik was leaning against the trunk of a tree, his arms crossed and shoulders high with tension. He watched Link approach carefully, studying him carefully, as if expecting the Ordonian to pull out a weapon and come charging at him at any second. Link felt his stomach plummet, and no small measure of stinging in his chest, at the idea that Sheik thought of him as dangerous, as an enemy.

He came to halt about five paces away, hands well away from the handle of his sword. Hopefully, that would help put Sheik at ease. He sighed. "Sheik, I—"

Sheik held up a hand, silencing him. Behind his collar, he could hear the Sheikah breathing slowly and deeply, a conscious action, probably to keep himself calm. "You have five minutes to tell me the whole story," he said. "I will be quiet, and I will listen. I...cannot promise anything more than that."

He was forcibly holding himself back, the temper Lor had warned him about looming beneath the surface of those crimson eyes. Link was almost glad that Sheik had his collar up, hiding his undoubtedly gritted teeth and tense jaw from view. His cheek must have hurt from the grimace, but he probably wouldn't take kindly to Link invading his personal space to examine in the wound.

Well, here goes nothing, Link thought.

"I met him when I was out getting the clothes for the masquerade," he began strongly, deciding that he couldn't keep going like this and walk on eggshells. "I dropped my parcels in the street, and he was the only one who offered to help."

He remembered that moment, thinking himself foolish for being so grateful to a far too perfectly nice person. No one was that nice—not in Castle Town, at any rate. Really, looking back, the entire encounter had seemed far too scripted to be a natural occurrence. But how could he have known?

"We spoke for a while, and he offered to help me carry the packages home. I only let him help me as far as the Shades, and then I went the rest of the day myself. I guess...I guess he followed me, or had someone else do so."

Sheik tensed up slightly and drew a breath, but he did not speak. After a moment, he nodded for Link to continue.

"That was the first meeting. The second happened at the masquerade...he said he was there with his master, but for all I know he could have been lying. He never said his master's name, and I didn't see him with anyone else. We only talked for a bit, and not about anything important, but...but..." He trailed off, remembering exactly what they'd discussed, and he wanted to slam his head into the tree Sheik was leaning against. "I told him your _name_ ," he said with a hiss. "I told him your damn name, like the stupid idiot I was. It didn't even occur to me that he would...that he was..." He growled. "I didn't connect the dots until after Lor woke up, and only because he'd heard the name...Ascal..."

Sheik blinked. "Lor knew his name? He never told me..."

"I don't think Lor trusted his own memories of the things that happened," Link said, wondering if perhaps there was some small chance of—

"But he told you, upon waking up?" Sheik asked, to which Link could only nod. "Why didn't you say anything?" His voice was so quiet...almost trembling. Surely with rage, Link thought. "You knew who'd hurt him...but you kept it to yourself. Why?"

And here it was. The one thing he didn't want to admit, but had to in the interest of...well, his life, probably. "Because I was afraid," he said, unable to meet Sheik's gaze, settling on staring at his own boots instead. There were bloodstains on them. Those men had died so easily, caught off-guard by the size of their group, probably. "I was afraid of how everyone would...would react, if I revealed that I'd accidentally led Ascal to Lor and was responsible for him getting hurt. What you would say...what you would do when you found out I put your best friend at risk."

"Afraid?" Sheik asked, still so quiet.

"Terrified," Link said. "Because I'm a coward. I thought we'd left the danger behind in Hyrule...that they wouldn't follow us. I shouldn't have kept quiet..."

At some point, tears had begun to flow once more, and he was horrified to find that he was crying in front of Sheik. He reached up to wipe them away, chancing a glance up at the Sheikah, surprised to find that Sheik had his eyes closed, his stance somewhat relaxed. At least he wasn't expecting an attack...that was a good sign, right?

"Sheik, I...I'm sorry."

"Apologies aren't really worth much in the long run," the Sheikah said, sighing. "I've always found more worth in actions..."

What did that mean? Was Sheik expecting him to do something in atonement, or...?

"I believe you, though."

That made Link's eyes widen greatly, mouth dropping slightly open. "I..."

"I...have lived in cities most of my life. Small villages have always been something I've passed through or stayed in temporarily, never long enough to get to know someone...to trust someone, especially not strangers. You didn't know Ascal was dangerous—couldn't have known. I don't...I can't forgive you for what happened to Lor, because it's not my place to offer that forgiveness. Only he can do that."

Lor is too good of a person, to forgive me like that, Link thought.

"The masquerade...for all you knew, Ascal _was_ just a friendly servant of a lord...though I wish you hadn't told him my name, I cannot fault you for that either. I may not parade around very much, but I am hardly a stranger to the citizens of Castle Town. He would have found out anyway."

Taking off his hat, Sheik scratched at his scalp and then pinched the bridge of his nose, as if warding off a headache.

"The only thing I can fault you for, truly, is hiding the truth from me after Lor woke up. If you'd told me, I might have picked a different route, or kept my guard up, or prepared for possible ambushes. This fight could have been avoided altogether...but even then I know that fear is a powerful motivator for lies...or the omission of the truth, at the very least." He straightened up and slowly approached Link, who suddenly felt a need to step back. "And who knows," Sheik continued, "for all I know, the fight might have happened anyway. I might even have told Juichi to stay at home if I wasn't blissfully ignorant of his watchfulness. And in that case, we might all have been dead, or worse. My eyes would certainly be for sale at a market somewhere."

Sheik stopped just in front of Link, staring into his eyes with utter calmness.

"So...having heard your story...I would ask one thing of you."

"N-Name it," Link said, eyes still watery.

"The truth," Sheik said simply.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I've been curious about for some time. Why do you hate powder so much? Why do you refuse to pick up a pistol unless it is absolutely necessary? Why would you discard such a useful tool?" Sheik studied the way Link had seized up at the question. "Will you tell me?"

It was a question he'd refused to answer before. A question he hoped to never have to answer at all if he could help it, because it revealed just how much of a despicable person he truly was...but if this was what it took for Sheik to trust him again...he just hoped...

"Can you promise me something?" he asked the red-eyed boy. "Can you promise not to hate me, if I tell you?"

Sheik blinked again. "I...will try."

It was as close to a promise he'd get, Link supposed. With a tired groan, he lowered himself to the ground, his exhausted body finally refusing to remain upright. "Dad taught us to shoot when we were kids," he said. "Me and my sister, I mean. He said it was important that we learn to respect and properly use a pistol, in case we needed to defend ourselves with them."

Sheik also seated himself on the forest floor, listening to Link with rapt attention, though he, too, looked as exhausted as Link felt.

"Akia never liked it, said they were too loud. She was good, though...but I was better. Dad was so proud; said I'd be the best shot in the village by the time I was a man." Link chuckled bitterly, thinking back to those times. "He said I'd be able to protect us from whatever was stupid enough to attack us."

"But something happened," Sheik said, knowing that the story would take a worse turn.

"Yeah, something happened," Link said, glaring at his hands. The stupid hands that had...had been... "There's one thing no amount of firing at wooden targets and dummies will prepare you for, no matter how many times in a row you can hit dead centre. The bandits came back...tried to kidnap some of the village girls...including my sister.

"I only had one shot, wasn't strong enough to take 'em on in melee...he was dragging her away, and he spotted me. Held her in front of himself, like a shield. I was confident, though...I had hit the targets so many times...couldn't be that hard, could it?"

For the third time that night, he was crying. He was surprised he had enough water in his body for that, but oddly enough he didn't mind if it was in front of Sheik, who had not once remarked on it.

"I raised the gun, aimed so carefully...and fired. Akia didn't even realise I missed. She died instantly."

Sheik's eyes were so wide now, like saucers. Perhaps he regretted asking now. Link found that he didn't care. It was out in the open now, and the consequences would just...fall.

"The bandit wasn't sure what to do...didn't matter, because dad killed him seconds later. He'd seen the entire thing. Had tried to stop it. If I'd just waited...if I hadn't been so confident...my sister would still be alive." He wrapped his arms around his knees and drew them close, resting his chin on the top of them. "He never blamed me, though. Not once. No one did...which is ridiculous, because it was all my fault. I killed Akia. I shot her..."

He was expecting disgust and anger, for harsh words to rain down upon him, for Sheik to tell him to leave and never come back. He did _not_ expect for the hunter to sit beside him and draw him into an awkward embrace.

"I'm sorry," Sheik said. "I didn't...I shouldn't have asked. I'm so, so sorry..."

Surprised and absolutely exhausted, Link let himself be held. Time passed, which he immediately lost track of. At some point, Sheik had begun to hum. Link wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he knew it was to the sound of a half-whispered, soothing song in the Sheikah tongue.

* * *

It was all too easy. The walls that surrounded the royal estate weren't the tallest, the guards relying on the rocky terrain around them to do most of the protecting. The defences could easily keep an army out, she imagined, but for a dozen determined men and women armed with ropes and a wealth of experience in the infiltration of heavily guarded keeps it was practically child's play.

The guards certainly weren't expecting company at midnight, and by the time Dehl pulled herself across the the wall and landed in the garden, all the royal guards outside the keep were dead. The group then split up, entering the keep through the western and eastern entrances. Dehl's team went through the kitchens, where most of the servants were gathered around the table with a card game.

Blood stained the tiles by the time they were done, and not a sound had been made. She almost considered having a taste, but changed her mind when she saw how...unhealthy some of it looked. Not that it would have mattered to take a break, the other team were taking care of the rest of the guards in the estate. So far, everything was going according to the plan...and much easier and faster than Dehl could have hoped for. The Royal Guard had truly grown too complacent. True, it wasn't _really_ the princess they were protecting, but for all intents and purposes she was. While the real princess was away, this decoy was in charge.

Ascal was right—it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and she could scarcely wait. It was almost a pity he was off traipsing around the countryside chasing after the _real_ princess. Oh well...he would simply have to be content to witness the consequences.

Of course, the best laid plans can all be brought down low by the smallest of things. In this case, it was a badly placed chair that, when one of her men tripped over it, caused a pistol to go off. It alerted the entire keep, though luckily by that time the guard numbered less than ten. They enacted the security protocol immediately, forming a protective barrier in front of the "princess", who was taken to the drawing room at the heart of the keep.

"Get the door down, will you?" Dehl barked impatiently at the man with the axe as he slowly but surely hacked through the solid oak door. Behind it, she could hear the remaining three guards and the "princess" arguing loudly with each other on what to do. There were no windows, and the room only had one exit. They were trapped.

"You wanna chop it down?" the man snarled. So angry, so impatient. An unpleasant conversational partner...but that wasn't why Dehl had welcomed him into the family, so to speak.

She allowed the comment to pass, making a mental note to give him a reminder of who was the boss later, when they weren't deciding the fate of a kingdom. Soon enough, the door gave way.

It was over in seconds. The guards, encumbered by their ceremonial armour, were quickly overwhelmed by the leather-clad assassins and eliminated. Dehl strode inside, ducking when a pistol went off and the bullet whizzed past her head. She found the culprit standing in front of the fireplace, the barrel of her gun smoking in her trembling hand.

"Stay back!" she shouted. "I am Princess Zelda of Hyrule, and I _demand_ that you surrender immediately!"

Dehl almost laughed. She sounded so _sincere_. She glanced pointedly around at her dead or dying guards, their blood staining the expensive carpet, flicking a dagger from one hand to the other in a playful manner.

"I don't really think you're in a position to be making demands, _your grace_ ," she said with false sincerity, mock-curtsying. She then approached the girl rapidly, noting that the decoy did indeed look very similar to the real Princess Zelda. She took the pistol from the girl, forcing her backwards up against the mantelpiece, staring down at her with a wide, fanged grin. "Now...I think you know why we are here. Change is coming to Hyrule, and it begins now."

The girl was quite brave, in the face of it all, steeling herself as she glared at Dehl.

"I'd rather _die_ before going along with your nefarious schemes," she spat, which only made Dehl grin wider.

"That's what I'm counting on," she said before shoving her blade into the girl's throat, taking in the look of surprise and shock on her face before letting her drop to the floor.

It was always such fun, watching the light of life leave a person's eyes. Once more, Dehl felt an urge to have a taste of the delicious crimson that spilled from the decoy's throat, but forced herself not to. Image was everything here.

"Burn it to the ground," she said loudly. "This has to look like a tragic accident. Drag the bodies inside, make it appear like they died trying to save the princess."

Her assassins obeyed wordlessly, immediately going to work. Dehl took a moment to savour the last breath of the false princess before leaving the drawing room. Wandering the halls as the estate began to burn around her, she grinned.

She wished Ascal was here to witness her moment of triumph. The look of betrayal on his face would have been so _delicious_. Oh well, she would have to savour the fact that he was stuck out there in the wilderness, chasing some blood-eye and the real princess, forced to witness his grand scheme fall to pieces from a distance.

She would take _very_ good care of his young master...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter today to make up for being such a slowpoke!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


	27. The Aftermath

There was a minor hubbub in the improvised camp when Sheik returned with Link...slung over his shoulder. Evidently, the Hylian had passed out from exhaustion, and the Sheikah had decided to bring him back on his own. Touching, in a way, but far from graceful as Link outweighed Sheik by quite a bit, resulting in the hunter nearly collapsing by the time he reached the others. Zelda rushed to help him, guiding Link down to a somewhat comfortably position on his bedroll, which she had kindly unpacked for him. All of them, really, as the princess had evidently found herself restless while waiting for her little brother and "his beloved" to air things out between them.

Lor nearly laughed at the spectacle, only barely remembering that they were, technically, hiding. Kaura did a quick examination, concluding that the Ordonian had simply been too tired to stay awake. They all were, really, but someone had to keep watch.

"I'll take first watch," Sheik volunteered, receiving not even a token protest from the others. They went about making sure the horses were secured before lying down on their respective bedrolls in a rough semi-circle. Sheik seated himself on the same stump Link and Lor had been sitting on earlier, surprised when the black-haired boy joined him a few minutes into the watch. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked, raising an (unseen) eyebrow at Lor.

At least his superior night vision allowed him to see Lor slightly shake his head in the dark. It was getting quite cold, and they had both wrapped themselves into as many layers of clothing as possible. They would definitely have to purchase proper clothing in the next village...should they ever reach it. Sheik sorely wished he hadn't laid down a "No fires"-rule, but he'd take discomfort over death by attackers in the night, drawn by the light of their fire.

"Can't sleep," Lor replied shortly, looking uncomfortable. "Not yet, at least."

"Not yet?" Sheik asked. "Something wrong?"

"Just...Link told me everything," Lor said, looking anywhere but at Sheik. "How he accidentally led Ascal to me, the reason I was kidnapped and...well..."

Sheik said nothing, remembering his own conversation with Link. It wasn't his place to forgive, after all, and no matter what he said to Lor it would be misconstrued as a defence of his lover, which was _never_ going to be objective, regardless of the situation or circumstances. Instead, he shuffled a little closer to Lor, hoping to convey his support that way.

"I'm not angry at him, you know," Lor said quietly, probably hoping no one else was listening. Judging by the snores, no one was. Kaura sounded like a train boiler exploding. It was very impressive and not at all terrifying and in defiance of all that was good in the world. "I forgave him the moment he told me."

"You're...a good person, Lor," Sheik said.

"I wouldn't know about that," the tattooed boy said with a shrug. "I was offered money, you know, for the information. And for a moment, I was tempted to take it. So _damn_ tempted...but I didn't, because I was so convinced that you two were my friends." He chuckled a little. "Figures that's what he'd go for next, right? Told me I wasn't really your friend, that I was just some pretty distraction when the two of you were bored with each other—"

"You're not," Sheik said sharply, covering his mouth when he realised he'd nearly shouted it. "You're not," he repeated firmly in a whisper. "You're my friend. My oldest friend. My _best_ friend. Lor, if I didn't have you, I don't know what I'd..." He sighed, looking down at his boots, realising that the utter deep darkness of the forest was overcoming even _his_ eyes. He looked back at the sleeping group, hoping Link wasn't listening. "I'd say we're even more than that...or used to be..."

Lor looked at him, shaking his head slowly. "I wouldn't say that," he muttered. Before Sheik could speak again, he continued: "We found each other interesting, and we had our fun, but...you don't look at me the way you look at him." He glanced into the darkness at that, his tone a little clipped. "Still, I'm grateful for it. And I got a best friend out of it...and something of an adventure, the kind someone like me would only get to read or hear about." He chuckled again. "Guess what I'm trying to say is that no matter what happens or has happened, I'm grateful I still get to be your friend." He leaned over kissed Sheik's cheek bone, just below the eye, bringing the familiar heat of a blush to the Sheikah's face. "And as for Link...don't be angry with him anymore," Lor finished, leaning against him. "Just...cherish him."

"I never stopped, I think," Sheik confessed. "I was angry, but...I listened. It was an honest mistake, and...but...I just wished it had different consequences."

"You're a good person, Sheik," Lor said, mirroring his words from before.

"I wouldn't know about that," Sheik said, mimicking his companion and, in a split-second, motivated-by-exhaustion decision, then said, "I killed him, you know."

"Who?" Lor was halfway asleep by now, leaning more and more into Sheik's body heat.

"The man who hurt you. The Blue Jackal," he elaborated. Unable to look at Lor's face, he rambled on, unsure if it was the fatigue or the pressure of keeping the secret for so long that was overcoming him. "I followed him home the morning after...ambushed him in an alley. I...hurt him. A lot. Broke his hands and fingers, cut his hamstrings, took my rage out on his bollocks...and then I cut his throat. I watched him die, then framed another gang for the murder. I murdered him, Lor...because of my anger. Would a good person do that? Is that what someone you trust would do?"

There was no response. All he heard was Lor's calm breathing at his shoulder. He nearly groaned when he realised the boy had fallen asleep. Repeating his earlier action (this time greatly assisted by Lor's complete and utter _lack_ of weight, which he swore he would do something about when they got to the Studio), he laid Lor down on his bedroll and covered him up with a blanket. "Sleep well, my friend," he said and kissed Lor's forehead before returning to the stump...and nearly shouting when he found a pair of eyes staring right at him from the position.

"What are you doing up?" he whispered harshly once his heart rate was back under control, glaring at Tao, who gave him a mischievous stare in return. It was probably a figment of his imagination, but the kid's eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark, like a cat's. Just a consequence of exhaustion, probably. "You really should be asleep," Sheik grumbled, not resisting when the silent apprentice cuddled up against him. For the heat, of course. "So...how much of that did you hear?"

Tao seemed to think for a moment, then made sure that Sheik was looking directly at him. How Tao knew that in this dark, Sheik had no idea, but he paid rapt attention when Tao began to sign at him, moving his hands slowly and in (for him) uncomplicated patterns. It took the hunter a good three attempts to understand what Tao was trying to convey.

**Everything.**

"Huh...I see...so, you know what a monster I am, then."

Tao shook his head and signed again. Once again Sheik needed to see them several times to begin to glean some sort of understanding.

**Not a monster. A friend.**

"Regardless of the motivation, what I did was murder," Sheik said, not realising how much it had been gnawing at his conscience...which was strange since the Blue Jackal had been far from the first such...incident. Granted, those times had been...different, he supposed. Self-defence or hunts or accidents...but not a single one to his knowledge had been as malicious as what he'd done to that fat fucker... "He still deserved it, though," he muttered. "Guess it takes a monster to kill a monster...heh...maybe that's what makes a hunter a hunter..."

Tao made a frustrated sigh and snapped his finger inches from Sheik's nose, drawing his attention again. More signs, a repeat of his former statement, and this time Sheik was quicker on the uptake...or perhaps Tao was dumbing his words down.

**Not a monster. A friend. Loving. Hunter.**

Tao then looked a bit shyly at his feet before making one more sign, but Sheik didn't even need to look at him to understand it.

**Awesome.**

He had no time to respond, or even ask what he meant by that, before Tao ran back to his bedroll, practically diving into it and giggling. Kaura's boiler explosions stopped for a moment before resuming, probably wondering where he'd gotten off to for a while.

Sheik rubbed his eyes until he saw explosions of light, hoping it'd get rid of some of the sleepiness. When that didn't work, he started to (quietly) pace around the makeshift camp, making occasional stops by the horses to apologise to them for the rough treatment they'd gotten in the past few days. They all deserved some good treats when they reached the next town or village, he decided.

When he next sat down on the stump, he heard something rip. His trousers had gone.

_This is going to be a long night_ , he thought.

* * *

Ascal stared up at the night sky, admiring the patches of visible stars that occasionally peeked through the holes in the clouds. He tried to count the ones he could see, guess where the different constellations were, just...enjoying the sight. He enjoyed the sounds of the forest as well; the wind whispering through the trees, the squeaks and growls of the nocturnal critters as they went about their nightly affairs, the crackles of a few dozen campfires and the whispered murmurs of travelling companions. They were far from the only visitors to the forest on this night, though it was hard to tell how far away they were. He took a deep breath, appreciating the feel of the solid ground beneath him, even the root digging into his lower back. He delighted in the wind caressing his face, shifting his hair about.

The world always seemed so much more...alive and vibrant, after a good meal. It was a consequence of his...condition, and quite addictive. It was why he had to be so careful...but he supposed being shot in the head was something of an extraordinary situation. That had been an utterly humiliating affair, he'd decided soon after waking up. To be shot was one thing, but to fall for such a basic, lowly trick... The Sheikah was a good actor, Ascal had to give him that. Granted, Ascal had had no idea if Sheik had even _more_ allies lurking in the woods, after the other Sheikah showed up, and he hadn't wanted to be taken by surprise from behind...and damn, was the boy fast on the trigger.

Art coughed, bringing Ascal back to the world of the living. Sitting up, he grimaced at the smell of blood that still lingered in the air. It would for days, or until a good shower of rain washed it all away. Art didn't seem bothered, but then he didn't have to deal with a heightened sense of...everything, did he? The fire roared loudly (to him), and the man in question was cooking something in a pan over it. It smelled of smoke and salt. "Bacon again?" he asked, to which Art simply nodded. "Goodness, how do you stay alive with such a diet?"

Art looked blankly at him. "Says the blood-sucking monster," he countered before returning to his food preparation.

Ascal scowled, but didn't rise to the bait. "I suppose I walked into that one," he said quietly, glancing over at the body lying on the makeshift pyre some distance away. "Have you made the preparations?" he asked.

"There," Art said with a grunt, pointing at a small satchel. Ascal opened it and withdrew the small glass vial, studying the contents.

"Delicately removed," the vampire said, studying the pair of eyes floating in the embalming fluid within. "Well done. I could almost believe it was done by a Sheikah. Have much experience with this, do you?"

"Some," Art offered. "Worked for a surgeon for a while. Needed supplies and subjects—"

"I'm going to stop you right there before I throw up," Ascal said with a grimace, carefully putting the vial back in the satchel. He'd have to be gentle with it. He wanted the contents to arrive unharmed, after all. His body was still stiff from his brief stint of death (or very deep sleep, as it really was), and he groaned as he stood up and slowly walked over to the unlit pyre. It was a hastily-done job, but Ascal figured it would satisfy the young man's ancestors. Art had even closed the Sheikah's eyes to preserve his dignity! The man was a damn softie, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

"I suppose I owe you a debt of thanks," he muttered at the dead hunter, fingers tracing the twin puncture wounds in his throat. "Not sure how much you know about my kind, but we don't do very well after a death like that...to find you so close...well, it made things a whole lot easier. Now don't you worry...I will do right by you and your ways. I won't allow anyone to desecrate your grave, for you will have none. Your corporeal form will be burned, and your essence returned to the air and soil. This is not your native land, but I think you will like it here anyway...the air and water is clean, and there is...peace to be had." He glanced back towards the fire and the satchel. "I will also do right by your clan. I cannot promise to leave your...'cousin', is it, in peace, but I _promise_ that I will do everything in my power to limit the damage to him."

He sighed and went back to the fire, returning with a lit piece of wood. He shoved it under the Sheikah's body. It caught fire almost immediately, and soon the pyre was burning brightly, turning the hunter and his belongings and weapons into ash. The only thing Ascal didn't burn was the young man's _kukri_ , which he had strapped to his thigh next to his own. It was such a shame for such a good weapon to go to waste, after all. Besides, as far as he could recall, the Sheikah had certain traditions regarding ancestral weapons. Perhaps there was someone Ascal could return it to at some point.

Such thoughts were unbearably optimistic, even for him, but he was quite affected by the Sheikah's young, untainted blood, and he felt that he should allow himself some optimism before things undoubtedly went south once more. For all he knew, Dehl could have fucked up her assignment spectacularly and he'd return to find his young lord in a cell and...he shook his head. No, he couldn't worry about that just yet. He had another job to do first.

He watched the pyre burn for a while before sitting down at the fire on the opposite side from Art, who was by now tucking into his...eugh...fried flesh. Ascal had never seen the appeal...or, hadn't for a long time, anyway. "We have to plan our next step carefully," he said, gaining the man's attention. If Art was surprised that he was still going to go after Sheik and the princess, he didn't show it, only swallowing and nodding. "I made a mistake during the ambush...never again. We have no chance of catching up to them before they reach the Studio...but that is fine. Winter is coming, and the passes will soon freeze over, leaving only _one_ dangerous, treacherous path down from the mountains. They will be cooped up in that drafty, dilapidated castle, ripe for the picking."

"You got a plan, boss?" Art asked.

Ascal smiled widely. "Oh, I have _more_ than a plan, Art..."


	28. The Cache

Link's teeth chattered as another gust of icy wind seemed to blow right through his heavy furs and multiple layers of wool clothing, which he'd been guaranteed would keep him warm on their trek through the mountains. He had half a mind to turn back and demand his money's worth (technically Zelda's), but that would mean another thirty-two hours of walking back to that godforsaken sinkhole of a village. Somehow, he doubted the suggestion would receive standing ovations from the others.

Muttering insults to the valley they were skirting at the moment, through which the freezing wind was blowing, he glanced up ahead. He happened to catch Sheik's eyes (just about the only part of the Sheikah's features that were visible in his current outfit) and felt a smile growing beneath the scarf that covered his mouth. Sheik was too far away for Link to see, but he hoped that the hunter was smiling as well.

The night they'd spent in the forest after Ascal's attack had been...sobering, and something had changed between the two of them. Sheik didn't treat him any differently in front of the others, but there were no more secret kisses or murmured sweet nothings when no one else was listening. Link wasn't sure if Sheik was having second thoughts about their relationship, or if he was simply putting things off until they could get to the Studio and possibly talk things over, but...he found himself worrying.

But...Sheik didn't seem like the type to lead someone on, and his honour probably demanded that he'd end things with Link if...if he wasn't feeling anything for the Ordonian after Link had revealed...that.

He drew a sharp breath, willing away the unbidden images that always came to his mind whenever he thought of it. The worst part had been her smile, just before he'd pulled the trigger. Had she known that he'd miss? Or had she suspected what would happen, and already forgiven him before she wouldn't be able to? He groaned—why was he thinking about this?

He tried to focus on something else, and chose to observe the other travellers in their party. Zelda and Kaura were leading their horses by the reins, and Tao and Lor were sitting in the saddles, both bundled up to the point of being unable to move. It was almost comical, but given how miserable Tao was at night Link knew it was absolutely necessary to keep him as warm as possible. Lor was much the same, still weak and recovering from his injuries, though his leg was improving drastically.

Epona gave an unhappy snort when another gust of wind blew through the valley, and Link patted her muzzle. "Don't worry, girl, we'll find shelter soon," he muttered into her ear. Glancing up, he noted that it was hours past noon, and the sun was getting low. Drawing a breath, he called to Sheik at the head of their group, "Sheik! How long until we make camp?!"

"Another hour at this pace, and we'll reach one of our caches!" was the answer, carried on the wind. Link suppressed a wince. Sheik sounded tired, even when shouting. "It's in a cave, so it'll warm up quickly!"

Another hour sounded like torture, but the promise of a warm cave was more than enough to renew Link's will to continue for a while. It helped that the snow up here wasn't particularly deep, not even coming up to his ankle. The proper winter snow had yet to fall—he could only hope they would hold off until after they were safe and secure in the Studio.

Where he could stay warm with Sheik...

* * *

True to Sheik's word, the cave appeared around a bend in the road an hour later. Well, appeared was a strong word. It was hidden behind an outcropping that blended perfectly into the rock, only yielding its true nature when viewed from the exact right angle. Clearly artificial, the cave itself was smooth and polished, and tall enough for the horses to stand at full height comfortably. A thick wooden gate held shut by a massive padlock blocked the entrance to unwelcome visitors who'd stumbled on the cache by accident, the padlock's mechanism so complicated it was (more or less) impossible to pick open.

Or frustrating enough to drive even the most skilled picklock insane long before they actually managed to open it.

Reaching into his clothing, Sheik took out his special key and used it on the padlock, grunting when the mechanism resisted slightly. He made a note to oil it before they left. It finally relented, and he opened the gate.

"The stables' on the immediate left," he said, drawing a pistol and walking into the darkness. In theory, only hunters would be able to access this place, but one could never be too certain. Not after Ascal. "Should be a pump for water, but I don't think there's any feed."

Behind him, he heard the scuffling of boots and the clops of hooves on stone as the others put the horses in the small chamber by the entrance. A pair of boots caught up to him.

"So this is a hunter's cache?" Zelda asked, a hand on the knife in her belt, mirroring Sheik's caution. "Are non-hunters even allowed in here?"

"Not really," Sheik admitted as he led her further into the cache, which was larger than he remembered it to be. Granted, it had been at least ten years since he'd last seen it, and Impa had probably had it expanded at some point. "But I think a special exception can be made for the Princess of Hyrule." He kept his voice low—Lor still didn't know about Zelda's true identity, though he wasn't sure why they were still keeping it a secret from him. Maybe to preserve some semblance of belief in Zelda's skills at maintaining her disguise after Kaura had taken a sledgehammer to it.

There had definitely been made additions to the cave—it had been extended at least another twenty yards, with several side rooms added. Some even had doors! The last time he'd been here, there'd only been the main chamber and the stables!

He found a lantern and lit it with his tinderbox, shedding light on the central tunnel, causing Zelda to gasp. "This is incredible," she said. "The hunters made this?"

"We need places like this for the times when we're...less than welcome in towns," Sheik said, glancing into each individual room. Several sleeping areas, stoves, even a small workshop...definitely one of the better-equipped caches he'd seen. "Means we have somewhere to retreat."

"I see," the princess said, noticing another side chamber with a heavy-looking metal door, equipped with another complicated-looking lock. "What's behind there?" she asked.

"Armoury," Sheik replied. "Enough to equip more than a dozen hunters in case of an emergency. We're meant to be able to coordinate Grand Hunts from a place like this."

"When was the last Grand Hunt?"

"Oh, thirty years ago, roughly. I'm not entirely sure—records about it were sloppy. I'm not even sure _what_ they were hunting, only that it was dangerous. Might even have been an extermination. Impa won't say much about it, nor will the others. I suppose it didn't go very well." He frowned. His aunt's expression always went wooden when he asked, and he never felt good about that. Pissing her off, however, was always an occasion to celebrate.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask when we arrive at the Studio, then?" Zelda said.

"I doubt it will be welcome conversation at the dinner table," Sheik agreed. He peeked into the last room (another sleeping area) and holstered his pistol, satisfied that they were alone. "Right, I think we'll be fine here for a night. We can even sleep in separate rooms, if we want, but I'm not sure it's a good idea to waste the firewood..."

"Maybe we can sleep in groups or pairs?" Zelda suggested. "I'm sure Link would appreciate a chance to snuggle up against his brave hunter—"

Sheik was certain the blush covered his entire face, and was thankful for his scarf. "Shush!" he hissed. "What if someone hears—"

"Half of us already know, Sheik, and I doubt the good doctor and Tao will care very much." She glanced back towards the others, checking. They were still tending to the horses, Lor and Tao doing their best to unwrap themselves from the many layers they'd been stuffed into. "Besides, I think the two of you need some alone time. I haven't seen you do anything together since the attack. I thought you'd forgiven him?"

Sheik found himself wishing he was back outside, braving the winter night instead of being questioned by his sister on the subject of his...lover?

"I have," he said quietly, continually looking towards the others, hoping they couldn't hear. "But...we talked a lot that night, and there were...Link told me some things about himself...some...very private things, and I feel like he's let me into a ring of confidence that I have yet to match."

"What did he say?" Zelda asked, eyes alight with curiosity. "Was it about previous flames? Quick tumbles during festivals, or...?" she trailed off, remembering the biggest secret she knew the Ordonian harboured. "...his sister?"

"Something like that," Sheik said noncommittally. He wasn't about to reveal such a painful secret without Link's explicit permission...or without letting the Ordonian talk about it himself. "Either way, we're on unequal ground at the moment, and I don't feel...right about acting the lover without being just as honest with him. And I've tried...Goddesses know I've tried, but the words just won't...come." He finished by letting his arms dangle uselessly at his side, the swinging lantern casting flickering shadows around them. "I want to tell him, but don't know how. It feels...awkward, to simply drop it on him out of nowhere, and it never feels like the right time. Not with..."

"Us around," she finished for him. "Well, it's not my place to tell you how to handle this, but I think Link is worried about where the two of you are standing at the moment, and I think he needs some sort of acknowledgement that you don't secretly hate him." She patted his shoulder, smiling. "And as for being equal...well, I don't blame you for finding it difficult to tell him. I'm sure he will understand when you finally find the proper time, though. Perhaps at the Studio?"

"Perhaps," he agreed. He blinked, lips moving before he realised what he was asking. "Why are you set on going to the Studio?"

"Oh...diplomatic business, very important," she said offhandedly, glancing away. Sheik narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, I know that, but _what_ kind of business? Surely any business you have or would like to have with the hunters could have been arranged when Impa was was in Hyrule last? Or through me?"

Zelda looked positively uncomfortable now, which immediately set off warning bells in the back of Sheik's mind. "I...it did not become prudent until after Impa left, and it's too sensitive to go through intermediaries, even if it's you, Sheiky."

_Utter shite,_ Sheik thought. _That's a lie if I ever heard one._

_"_ Look, it's a very sensitive matter, and right now we have enough problems on our hands without me adding politics to the pile," she continued, sounding a bit more confident. "Sheik, please believe me when I say I am keeping the matter to myself for a good reason. Have I ever wanted anything but what's best for you? For everyone?"

He had to concede to that, and nodded with a grunt of displeasure. "Fine...but I _will_ be there when you discuss it with Impa."

"Of course," she said with a grateful smile. She glanced around, looking a bit impatient, probably eager to explore the cache. "Anything I can do to help?"

He handed her his tinderbox, pointing to the closest lantern. "Light the place up a bit, will you? I reckon we'll be using the two outer chambers. One for you and Kaura, one for the me and the boys."

She nodded and immediately went about her task, probably glad to have escaped the conversation that had turned against her in the matter of seconds. Nodding to himself, Sheik headed for the armoury door, unlocking it with his key. The door was heavy, and he had to put his shoulder to it to finally get it to move. It creaked loudly, revealing the dark room within. Stepping inside, he found everything to be in order.

Racks and cabinets lined the walls, locked and secured, containing pistols, rifles, blades, axes, and every other tool and weapon that could be used in a hunt. Several barrels in one corner contained the precious gunpowder that fuelled so many of the hunters' devices. Protective clothing was contained in a pair of chests under a wide table that occupied the middle of the room, covered in nicks and gouges from hunters preparing for a job. Sheik placed his lantern on the table and removed his furs and outer coat, realising he'd been growing uncomfortably warm before they'd even lit any stoves or fires.

Slowly, he disarmed himself, laying his weapons on the table top. Three daggers, two curved short words (one silver), and three pistols. He fetched maintenance supplies from one of the cabinets, and slowly and methodically began to clean his armaments. He hadn't had the time or supplies to do it on the road, and he was worried something might have been damaged after the battle.

There were some nicks and dents in his blades, and the handle of one of the pistols had cracked. He immediately discarded that weapon, replacing it with a fresh one from a cabinet. It probably wasn't dangerous, but Sheik didn't want to risk the damn thing exploding in his face the next time he pulled the trigger.

He cleaned and polished the silver sword first. He hadn't even used it, but it never hurt to properly take care of the most efficient monster-killing weapon in his arsenal. The regular steel one was next, and he noted with annoyance that a particularly bad dent had been put in its cutting edge near the point. This one needed a proper forge to be fixed, and he doubted he'd have enough time to get the workshop in the cache up and running in time.

_Suppose I can only hope we don't run into something big on the way,_ he thought.

He doubted they would. The Studio was only a week or so away, now, and Impa kept the area clean with regular patrols and hunting parties, both for the Studio's safety and that of the nearby hamlet, Whiteridge, with which they traded regularly. It was an uneasy alliance, though. The hamlet's inhabitants did not trust the hunters (mostly the Sheikah ones), but they appreciated their coin and the utter safety of the area, from bandits and monsters alike.

"Hey."

Sheik paused. He'd been so concentrated on his maintenance he hadn't heard Link step into the room, looking at him uncertainly. "Hey," he greeted the Hylian carefully. "Horses settled in?"

"Yeah," Link said, breathing out. From relief? Sheik wasn't sure. "We found a bale of hay; didn't seem too old so they're having dinner."

"Good, good," Sheik said, indicating the table. "You should take the opportunity to look after your weapons. We're still a week away from the Studio; Goddesses know what we could run into on the way."

Link hesitated, but soon moved to stand next to him, cleaning his blades with a few pointers from Sheik as to what should be done. To Sheik's surprise, Link even placed his one pistol on the wooden surface, staring at it hard.

"Barrel's warped," the Hylian said shortly, pointing at the end of it, where the metal seemed to have bent slightly.

"Melted from the heat," Sheik said, examining it. "Sub-par alloy. Should never have been used." He removed the firing mechanism and tossed the useless hunk of metal and wood aside. "It can be repurposed, though. We'll leave it for the next hunter party to rest here." He unlocked the same cabinet from before and retrieved a new pistol for Link. "I know you don't like them, but...it makes me feel better, knowing you're carrying one."

Link eyed the thing with a hard look before taking it and putting it in his belt, unloaded. "Then I'll take it," he said."

They worked in companionable silence for an hour or so, murmuring tips and advice to each other. For a farmer, Link knew quite a bit about looking after swords, but Sheik supposed that was his father's influence, having been a soldier.

They only stopped working when the smell of cooking began to fill the cave, and Tao appeared in the doorway, looking properly warm for the first time in days. He made a few signs and rubbed his stomach, which got the message across.

**Time to eat**.

"Did Zelda cook?" Sheik asked nervously, to which the boy shook his head and indicated himself with a proud look, earning him a relieved sigh from Sheik. "All right, we'll be right there. Thank you, Tao."

When he disappeared, they washed the filth and oil off their hands. Link's stomach rumbled, which made him chuckle as he made to follow Tao, but Sheik's hand on his elbow stopped him. "What's up—mmph!"

Sheik stepped back, giving Link a small smile. It was sneaky, to kiss someone like that, but Link didn't seem to complain; just smiling widely. "I know I've been...distant, lately. Please, don't think it's because of... _that_. Or the other thing," he said. "I just...I need a little time, to prepare. When we get to the Studio, I promise that we'll...explore this further, all right?"

Link's smile was like the sun, and Sheik could only chuckle when he was wrapped in a strong (almost crushing) embrace and a quick peck was placed on his uninjured cheek.

"Take all the time you need," Link said firmly. "I'm just glad you haven't...given up on me." He practically skipped out of the armoury, towards the chamber where cheerful voices could be heard.

Sheik stared after him for a moment before following, murmuring, "I never could."

* * *

"What have you done?!" Camdessus stared in shock at the paper he held in his hand. It was a special evening edition, hastily made as the shocking news had broken. It was practically a flyer, with a single headline with some choice commentary.

**FIRE CONSUMES ROYAL RESIDENCE, PRINCESS ZELDA CONFIRMED DEAD**

There were no photographs; there had been no time to take or develop any in the rush to get the news out before anyone else. The young lord's hands were shaking, fingers crinkling the paper.

"There was a complication," Dehl said, leaning unsettlingly casually against the mantelpiece, having just arrived in the city on horseback. "The decoy fought back, there was a carpet, someone stumbled...and then there was a knife in her neck. We didn't have much of a choice, really. Had to burn the place down, or her identity would have been exposed."

Camdessus felt his legs give out, and sank into his armchair with a moan. "You've ruined everything...gods, this is a disaster!"

"I fail to see the issue," Dehl said with a shrug. "You needed her for leverage...but now you can bypass the issue of royalty entirely. She was the last heir, and it'll take forever to find out which noble family has the closest relation. In the meantime, the takeover of the council will be a breeze."

"The takeover...?" the young lord said, the stone in his stomach growing heavier by the minute. When Ascal had recommended the vampire in front of him for the job, he'd been so certain everything would be carried out cleanly and efficiently. They'd have the decoy under their thumb by now, ready to...ready to make changes for the better of Hyrule. But now... "What takeover?"

Dehl rolled her eyes, giving him a nasty grin that exposed her elongated incisors. Ascal never exposed his unless he was about to...to... "The takeover where you assume control of the council and, by extension, Hyrule," she said slowly, as if he was a child. "My men are already...er...paying visits to the other members, suggesting _strongly_ that they should defer to every decision you make from now on. On pain of...well, a variety of things. Many of them have children, for example. Congratulations, my lord, you are now the ruler of a kingdom."

She stalked over and gave him a firm pat on the head, like a dog. "Or, I should say, the perceived ruler."

He looked up at her sharply, narrowing his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked. He glanced at his guards, whose hands were surreptitiously moving to their weapons.

"Well, Ascal's plan was to put you at the top of the hierarchy," she said. "And you will be...but I have made some _slight_ modifications to the original procedure. You will rule, of course...but you will do as _I_ say."

"How will Ascal react to this?" he asked, wishing more than anything that the other vampire was in the room with them. Ascal was stronger than her; he could easily dispatch Dehl. He always made Camdessus feel _safe_. "I doubt he will be happy for the improvisations you are adding."

"With any luck, Ascal will never find out," Dehl said with an even wider grin. "He's off chasing after the real princess and the Sheikah whelp in the middle of nowhere. News don't travel fast out there. By the time he learns of this...well, it'll be too late."

The paper crumpled in his hand. "When he comes back—" he began.

"He won't," Dehl interrupted. "Because my men will be on the lookout for him...and will cut his head off the second he sets foot in Hyrule again."

That was it; he'd heard enough! "Guards!" he shouted, pointing at her. They reacted immediately, drawing their weapons and making to subdue her.

She must have expected it, however. With inhuman speed, faster than he'd even seen Ascal move, she whirled around the room, raking her nails over the first man's throat, cutting deeply into the vulnerable flesh and tearing it to pieces. As he fell gurgling, she'd already drawn her pistol and shoved it into the other man's mouth, angled it upwards, and pulled the trigger. The top of his head came off in an explosion of gore, splattering the ceiling with blood, brains, and bone.

With a shout, Camdessus rose and threw himself at her, aiming a clumsy punch towards her face. He had never been a fighter, but he'd be damned if he was going to let this happen lying down. She was a lot faster, however, and her backhand caught his cheek before he was even close to hitting her. He was sent flying back into his chair, her hand suddenly locked around his throat and her cold breaths next to his ear.

"I would be careful about suddenly growing a spine, if I were you," she hissed, smearing his skin with the blood of the guard. "I might not feel as charitable and magnanimous as I do right now, and something terribly unpleasant might befall the scion of House Camdessus. Such a shame; so young, too."

She let him go and stepped back, surveying his pathetic, shivering form with a triumphant glance. "There are going to be changes around here," she said. "And you will do exactly as I say. Is that understood?"

He could do little but nod, heart hammering in his chest. What else was there to do? She was a monster and could end him with her little finger, should she so desire. He didn't stand a chance...but perhaps the rest of his guards—

"Rovan!" she said quietly, and the door to the study opened. One of her men stepped inside, wiping his blade on a bloody piece of cloth. Camdessus recognised it. It was one of his guards' tunics. "Status," Dehl said.

"The household has been pacified," he said, giving Camdessus a grin. "Hardly even put up a fight."

"Good work," she said, gesturing to the bodies on the floor of the study. "Get rid of these, will you?" She then turned to Camdessus, and dragged him out of the chair by his arm. "Now, my lord, why don't meet your new household guard?"

"Mistress," Rovan said shortly.

"What is it?"

"We've also found several leads on the hunter's network. We're ready to unravel it."

"Then get to it. The sooner we wipe out the little rats, the better. Now, come along, my lord."

Feeling both anger and a desire to weep, Camdessus did as he was told, all the while thinking:

Ascal is stronger. Ascal is faster. Ascal is smarter. He will fix this. He will fix everything.

Ascal will come.

* * *

Tinn was finishing up his work for the night, closing the last stall and patting occupant's muzzle with a murmured good night. He put away the pitchforks and shovels he'd used to clean the stables and locked every door with the big iron key.

It was good to finally be done. The death of the princess had to be investigated immediately, and a report sent to Sheik.

He went for the main doors, but was surprised to see a pair of men wearing long coats waiting just inside. For a moment, he thought they were loiterers, but their faces brightened upon spotting him, smiling. He cursed his luck. Clients at this time of night...

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" he asked, approaching them.

"Looking to hire a horse or two," the one with the top hat said, while the other continued to grin.

"Well, I'm certain that can be arranged, but we're closed for the night. I suggest you come back in the morning, and you can deal with the master—"

"We'd rather deal with you, kid," the other man said.

"Me?" Tinn asked. "But I'm just a stable hand, I don't have the authority to rent out—"

"You're Tinn, right?"

He paused. His name was quite well known in the district, but only among the working class. These men looked to be in the employ of nobles...but their stances.

"Yes—"he began.

"Good."

Something struck his torso, just below his ribs, and twisted _upwards_. He gasped, the pain catching up with him as his entire body went slack. The top hatted man had moved _so_ _fast_...and buried a large hunting knife in his chest.

He landed heavily on his knees, his hands numb. He tried to rise up, but his body refused to cooperate. He heard footsteps behind him, and then his head was yanked upwards and backwards by his hair, exposing his neck. He gasped, whimpering.

"Sorry, kid," Top Hat said. "Nothin' personal. Just business. And don't worry, we'll take care of your other friends as well."

He barely saw the other blade before it was dragged across his throat, and he saw his blood spray all over the cobbles as he was unceremoniously dropped to the cobbles, vision already going blurry.

* * *

From across the street, in his hiding place behind an outhouse, Eren's eyes widened as he watched the men cut Tinn's throat, discarding his broken body on the ground like a rag doll. He'd arrived a little earlier to deliver a message from Eileen, a maid in one of the minor noble houses, who'd heard something interesting regarding the princess that the stable hand might want to investigate a little further, when he'd spotted the suspicious men loitering around the stable entrance.

It had all happened so fast—he hadn't been able to react, and now Tinn was dead, blood running over the cobbles. The men offered each other congratulations and went on their way—where was the constant presence of constables on the street? Never there when you bloody needed them!

His breath caught in his throat when one of the men happened to glance into his alley...and spotted him.

"Hey, there's one of the rats!"

"Get him!"

Choking back a breath, he turned and ran for it, pulling down barrels and other detritus to hinder his pursuers' progress. He needed to get help; he had to get the others. He had to tell the boss, he had to...he had to...

He had to warn Nikal!


	29. The Studio

Sheik had never felt more relieved at seeing the crumbling parapets of the Studio than when they entered the pass, and nothing but the silence of the mountain was heard. No mocking voices, no ambushes...just the wind whistling through the trees. As they descended into the pass, he tried to recall that last time he had been here. Must've been quite a while—a year at least. A year and a half, maybe. It had also been during summer; the shallow stream that served as the border hadn't been frozen over, like now.

Their arrival seemed to be just in the nick of time, too, as he could see the dark clouds of the first winter storm gathering in the north, dark and heavy. He didn't like the look of them—they promised nothing but trouble. Luckily, the familiar walls of his childhood home and school were mere miles away, and they'd be well within safety before the storm struck.

"So that's it, huh?" Link asked, standing next to him.

"Yes, that is indeed the Studio," Sheik confirmed with a nod. He looked at the Ordonian, noting his narrowed eyes. "Disappointed?"

"I expected it to be...bigger," Link admitted, looking embarrassed. "And not looking like it's falling apart."

Sheik hummed. The southern wall _had_ seen better days, that much was true. From what he could tell, the left guard tower hadn't been reinforced, and seemed to have collapsed at some point during his absence. "It _is_ bigger than it looks from this distance, but we can't really afford to maintain it as much as we'd like," he said. "Our earnings barely cover equipment costs and vital supplies like...well, food, really. It doesn't help that the place always takes a heavy beating every winter—melting and freezing and expanding ice, and such."

Kaura cleared her throat pointedly. "Not that this peek into the hunters' world isn't _fascinating_ ," she said impatiently, "but I'd like get somewhere warm, if that's not too much to ask. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can leave."

Sheik wondered if he should tell the good doctor that her and Tao's chances of making it off the mountain alive with the coming weather were slim to none, but one glance at the bespectacled glare that was thrown his way answered the question for him. If he was going to get gelded, he'd rather it be somewhere warm and out of the elements. Preferably, he could use Impa as a living shield when he told her.

_She_ did _insist on seeing Lor here safely before leaving him in our care..._

"Right," he said, climbing into Maladict's saddle and securing his arms around Lor, waiting for the others to do the same. Tao was riding with Zelda at the moment, and looked quite content (based on body language, naturally, as the boy's face was hidden by his furry hood) with that. Kaura looked anything but pleased with more riding, but the idea of having finally reached their destination seemed to have put a little more enthusiasm in her movements. "It's not far—I think we can take it at a comfortable pace."

If it hadn't been for the cold and the wind, the pass could be called idyllic. The frozen stream meandered its way through the whole valley, feeding several pools and ponds filled with delicious whitefish during the warmer seasons. The trees gave cover to herds of deer and other critters. Gorgeous during the summer, the winter gave the pass an ethereal beauty once it was covered in a blanket of pure, white snow. Treacherous, too, with sudden drops in temperature that could kill a man in a matter of minutes if he was caught unprepared.

To the east, near the falls and thicker forests, several plumes of smoke rose through the air. They caught Link's attention soon enough, and he pointed to them. "What's over there?"

"Whiteridge," Sheik replied. "We trade with them; they supply the Studio with certain wares and clothing in exchange for protection."

"Protection?" Zelda asked.

"From beasts and monsters. Remote areas like these are breeding grounds for certain creatures, and we regularly sweep through the area to ensure nothing nasty has taken root in the caves and such. We've had this agreement for the past hundred and fifty years, so it's been beneficial." He grinned wryly. "They don't like us very much, though. I think they're under the impression that we leave a few individuals alive during every hunt so we don't run out of prey, forcing them to keep trading with us."

"Do you?" Lor asked, trying to swivel his head to look at Sheik, but failing because of his heavy clothing. Sheik heard the teasing tone, though, and played along.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation," he said, chuckling. Kaura clicked her tongue disapprovingly, forcing him to come clean. "We don't," he said. "This just happens to be frequently infested area. It's partly why we chose to make this our headquarters in the region."

"What were the other reasons?" Zelda asked.

"The fortress was abandoned and no one wanted it."

The trees began to thin out the closer they got to the Studio. It was a conscious effort to ensure clear lines of sight around the fortress grounds. It was a lesson hard learned, from what Sheik understood. It was one of those things Impa never elaborated upon, but he'd quickly learned to take seriously.

By now, they could see the individual stones, and soon they were crossing an ancient, crumbling stone bridge over what had once been an outer moat (also fed by the stream). His companions had gone silent, and Sheik knew they were studying the Studio, which was much larger up close than it had seemed. The walls, despite their dilapidated state, were nearly as tall as those of Castle Town, but what was unique about them was the fact that they seemed to have been built in layers, with different stone and architecture. Some layers even had elaborate, decorative images carved into the stone.

"I don't understand," Zelda said, adjusting her spectacles to get a better look at the walls as they approached them. "I recognise several architectural styles and cultural influences here, but...they're all years and years apart."

"This wasn't always a fortress," Sheik explained. "It started out as a monastery for an old, long-gone religion. Then it was converted into a military base, then it was a monastery again. A mine was once opened and closed, then a war broke out and the place was once again turned into a keep. For a while, this was an important stop along a trade route, which had to be protected. Then a proper highway was constructed down in the valleys, and this route became pointless...and the fortress was abandoned. By the time we took over, it had changed ownership at least thirty times. At that point, no one seemed to want it anymore, so we...well, I suppose we are technically occupying it illegally, but the issue of exactly _who_ this territory belongs to seems disputed, and we have yet to be served with an eviction notice."

The princess seemed to process this information for a minute. "That...is actually quite interesting. None of my books have mentioned this."

"It's all a source of embarrassment, for us _and_ the kingdoms who once laid claim to this pass. I think all parties are happy with simply pretending we've _always_ been here and should just be left well alone, what with the large blood-eye population and all."

As one, nearly the entire group hissed at his use of the slur. Kaura was too dignified to make such noises, but he _definitely_ saw her back straighten with annoyance. It warmed his heart, it did.

"It's not really—"he began, but he was interrupted as the crack of an explosion boomed just above them, echoing off the rocky walls of the pass and nearly deafening them. Maladict and Epona took the sudden noise well, snorting unhappily about it, but Mera and Kaura's horse (Blossom, which she refused to elaborate on) stomped nervously and fought against their riders' control.

Smoke billowed from one of the wall turrets, the hidden cannon within having fired. It wasn't actually loaded with a shot—it had simply been a warning, nothing but powder in the barrel. They'd been spotted by the lookout.

In truth, they'd probably been seen by several hunters at this point, their presence relayed with mirror signals. The only reason they hadn't been stopped along the way (by "random, friendly" passers-by) was because Sheik had been recognised.

"Easy, easy," he told the group, "that was just a warning and an acknowledgment of our presence."

"Hell of an acknowledgement," Lor muttered, rubbing his ears.

"A show of force to deter attackers," Link said.

Atop the gatehouse, a person appeared. They were wearing a long coat to ward against the wind, and a ridiculously wide-brimmed hat, face hidden by their collar. Typical hunter garb save for the hat, really. Sheik was sure he knew the person based on the hat alone.

"Who goes there?!" they demanded, and Sheik recognised their voice immediately, grinning slightly.

_Some things never change,_ he thought.

"Travellers whose road has been long and hard, and who wish to take a rest," he replied. "Not to mention we're bloody cold!"

"Password?!"

Sheik snorted. "There isn't a password and there never will _be_ a password!" He pointed up at them. "Now open the bloody gate before I break your damn nose, Kiro!"

The figure at the top paused and lifted their hat slightly, making a show of studying them closely. "Oh, cousin Sheik! Didn't recognise your voice! Has it gotten higher?"

"I wouldn't know, but I can raise yours by a few octaves if you'd like!"

"Sorry, hard to feel threatened by someone with the voice of a choir boy, but fine, fine. Come on in! Good to have you back!"

Kiro retreated back into the gatehouse, and a few seconds later there was a loud groan as the machinery that controlled the counterweight system was forced into action. The gates slowly swung open, revealing the large courtyard within, where dozens of hunters were hard at work, preparing the keep for the approaching storm. Supplies had to be tied down, ropes strung up as guidance in case the occupants had to move across the yard during the storm itself, sheds sealed to keep the tools within from flying everywhere...

The tired group rode through the gatehouse, the portcullis quickly dropping behind them, the gates swinging shut soon after.

In the middle of all the activity, a single hunter stood, leaning on her cane and staring at them with a piercing gaze. Sheik swallowed. He'd hoped to have more time to prepare himself before facing his aunt, but all traces of luck seemed to have abandoned him these days.

Impa slowly looked from him, to Link, to Zelda, and then the others, studying them carefully. To her credit, her eyes only widened a fraction when she clearly recognised the princess (and banging another nail into the coffin of Zelda's attempt at going incognito), frowning slightly. Around her, the other hunters had stopped their work and turned to watch the newcomers, some waving at Sheik in greeting. Impa noticed the quiet that developed around her, and glared at them until they returned to their tasks, at which point she walked towards them.

" _You have a lot of explaining to do, nephew,_ " she said in the Sheikah tongue, her tone undoubtedly promising a long and loud meeting later. "I did not expect you to come here for the winter this year," she continued in Common, "and with so many guests." She nodded to the others. "Welcome to the Studio. Please, leave your horses to Mana, here. She will take care of them."

A middle-aged Sheikah woman, followed by a pair of strong-looking Hylian stable hands, marched up to the group, taking the reins of their mounts. One of the stable hands helped Lor down from his seat with surprising gentleness, which had the boy blushing like a ripe tomato.

"Mana," Sheik greeted with a respectful nod. "It is good to see you again."

"And you, child," she replied, smiling warmly at him, before leading the horses away.

"Your baggage will be brought to your rooms," Impa said before anyone could ask questions. "Please, follow me. Do you require assistance, boy?" she asked, realising that Lor's leg was in less than ideal condition.

"He'll be fine," Sheik said, moving to Lor's side and slinging one of his arms over his shoulder, providing support that way. "Lead the way."

"Sheik, I can walk—"Lor began.

"There are a lot of stairs inside," Sheik murmured.

"Oh..."

Impa quickly led through the large wooden doors to the entrance hall. It was one of the nicer-looking areas of the former monastery fortress, with fewer holes in the ceiling and higher-quality stone. A variety of doors in different styles lined the walls, lead to different parts of the keep. The central staircase (a stone monstrosity with razor-sharp edges to their steps) led to another set of doors, beyond which the workshops were located. Faint sounds of hammers on anvils could be heard from within, and Sheik realised how much he'd missed that particular sound, not to mention the smell of grease, gunpowder, metal, and burning wood...

The smell of home.

"Right," Impa said, pausing in the middle of the hall, standing on the remnants of a mosaic picture of a rising sun. Only about half the sun remained, along with bits and pieces of the mountains from behind which it rose. The rest of the picture had been ruined by centuries of boots walking across the tiles, breaking and scattering them all over the place. Her voice echoed in the hall, sounding quite stern. It was mostly because she'd been caught off-guard, Sheik knew. She _hated_ that. " _Before I begin, nephew; do the others know_?" she asked in their native tongue.

Sheik realised immediately what she was referring to. " _No, but—_ "

" _Good_. I believe introductions are in order. I am Impa, Master and leader of all hunters on this continent. I am also the leader of the Half Sun Clan. I once again bid you welcome to the Studio, and offer you its hospitality. Now, I can only assume that _you_ ," she said, nodding to Link, "are the boy from Ordon I have heard so much about. You have come to be tested, I assume?"

Link's eyes grew wide for a moment, and Sheik could only offer him a helpless shrug in response to his pleading look. It wasn't his place to answer for the Ordonian, and Impa would _not_ be happy if he tried to interfere.

"Y-Yes...Master?" Link tried, offering a nervous-looking bow, to which Impa looked faintly amused. "My name is L-Link, o-of Ordon."

"Hmph, you got my title right, at least. Very well, Link of Ordon, you shall be tested soon enough." Impa's eyes slid over to Zelda. "I know who you are, there is no need to waste words when they are not needed." She continued to look at Lor. "And you?"

"Lor, Master Impa," Lor said, far more composed and smooth than Link, bowing as well. It came off as a little awkward due to his leg not cooperating and Sheik still supporting him, but Impa seemed satisfied. Her eyes met Sheik's for a moment, clearly surprised, however.

"Ah, my nephew has mentioned you before. A _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance, I'm sure."

Sheik glared at her. The barb was meant for him, of course, but it also insulted Lor, who had done nothing to deserve it.

"Kaura," Kaura said before Impa could speak again. " _Doctor_ Kaura, of Termina. And this is Tao, my student."

There was no bow from the physician, but Tao offered a subdued nod and a careful smile at the intimidating hunter that was clearly sizing them up. Impa's face brightened considerably at the title, however.

"A doctor?" she asked. "Have you come to replace Angen, then?"

"Who?" Kaura asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She hasn't, Master," Sheik quickly said before something unfortunate could develop. "She's here for Lor's sake."

Impa glanced at Lor's leg, nodding slowly. "I see..."

"I originally came along to ensure my patient's safety until we reached the border," Kaura explained. "But given what happened..."

"What happened?" Impa said, leaning forward.

"A long story," Sheik interrupted once more, aware that he was making a terrible social faux pas, but there were certain subjects that were best confined to his aunt's office, and away from potentially prying ears. "We can talk about it later. I did not find any doctors to replace Angen, I am sorry to say."

"That is disappointing, Sheik, but I suppose the news reached you at an inopportune time." She looked at the group once more, not very impressed. "Well, I am quite keen to hear this long story of yours, but it would be rude of me to demand it this instant, when you have been on the road for so long. I will have you shown to your rooms. Ayla, you can stop listening now and come inside!"

One of the side doors opened, and a young Gerudo strode in with all the confidence in the world, not at all embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping on them. Sheik felt a big smile coming to his face immediately upon seeing her. Now _there_ was a face he had missed. Judging from the huge grin she directed back at him, the feeling was mutual.

"I was worried you wouldn't show up, little brother," she said, throwing her arms around him (and by extension Lor) in a tight hug. "It'd be a long winter without you around."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving you up here alone, Ayla," he replied, but a quick glare from her shut him up. "...big sis," he added, blushing and trying to ignore the look of outrage he got from Zelda at the nickname. Link seemed more curious than anything, and Lor was trying to ignore the way his neck was being cricked by the Gerudo's tight hold.

"You're cute too, kid," she said, giving Lor an extra hug.

"You can have your little reunion later," Impa said with an impatient tone. "Ayla, show them to the guest rooms. Some of you will have to share I'm afraid—we only get a few visitors at one time, so we only have three of them prepared. Sheik, your cell door has been kept locked since the last time you were here—it will need some cleaning up."

"I'll get on it," Sheik said.

"Cell?" Link asked, narrowing his eyes.

"All hunters sleep in cells," Sheik explained. "They're not _actual_ cells, just very small rooms. We spend most of our time in our workshops when we're not hunting, studying, or training, so it makes sense for our sleeping chambers to be...compact."

"Still, you call them cells?"

"It's what they were called by the monks who once dwelled here."

"Fascinating, but perhaps we can have the history lesson later?" Kaura drawled. Tao had fallen asleep on his feet at some point, and she'd picked him up. "That is, unless there is more we need to know?"

"Not at the moment," Impa said with a shrug. "Only that you shouldn't wander around the Studio without a hunter to accompany you. This castle is old, and many sections are unstable or downright dangerous. We've had plenty of accidents lately because of our experiments and training already, I'd rather not have to scrape someone's brains off the floor because of a loose tile in the ceiling fell on them."

"Noted," the physician said drily. "Rooms?"

"Ayla."

"Follow me, please," Ayla said brightly, easily taking Lor from Sheik and supporting him as she began to lead them up the central staircase. "We're heading for the western tower. It's the one in best condition."

"Go with her," Sheik told Link and Zelda. "I have a cell to attend to, apparently."

"Actually, nephew, I'd like to see you in my office first," Impa said, eyes locking with Zelda's. "And you, girl, if you do not mind."

Words could not describe the look of terror in the princess' eyes.

* * *

Despite their disagreements and occasionally explosive relationship, Sheik always found himself admiring Impa's office. There was a sense of history, in there, with all kinds of strange artefacts, devices, and weapons passed down from master hunter to master hunter for hundreds of years. Bottles filled with strange liquids lined the shelves that went all the way to the ceiling, banners from old, long-gone kingdoms hung from the crisscrossing beams.

An ancient, weathered suit of armour occupied one corner of the large room, a massive _zweihander_ clutched in its gauntlets—one of the oldest hunter relics in existence. The teeth marks from a lycanthrope were still visible in the blade itself. Master hunter Iwan the Bloody had worn that suit, and asked for it to be kept on display after his death. Sheik wondered how heavy it was, most of it iron plating.

"So," Impa said from behind her desk, fingers steepled delicately as she regarded her nephew and the princess with heavy, lidded eyes. Had she always looked so tired? Winter had barely even started... "I assume there is a good reason for why you felt the need to drag Her Highness halfway across the continent and stranding her up here for the winter? Or are you just seeing if you can turn my hair grey?"

"Your hair's already grey," Sheik muttered, immediately feeling like a child again. He'd been given plenty of lectures in this room, and been chewed out more times than he could count. So much for growing up, it would seem.

It was the wrong thing to say, judging by how Impa's nostrils flared at that, breaking her impressively calm expression. "I see you're still attempting to play the comedian," she said slowly. "I can be funny too, you know. How about six weeks of patrol duty? I'm certain the residents of Whiteridge would appreciate your presence in the woods—"

"Impa, please," Zelda interrupted, standing up. "Don't be mad at Sheik, this isn't his fault. I asked him to take me here; _begged_ him." She cleared her throat. "Actually, it was more of an order. He tried to refuse, but I gave him no choice in the end. I knew he was going to take Link here, and forced my way into their party. If you're going to be angry, then I would very much appreciate that you direct the anger at the one responsible."

Impa didn't seem all that surprised by that, but she did as Zelda asked, and focused on her. "All right, then. Why are you here, Zelda?"

Sheik straightened up in his seat. He was intensely curious about that himself—Zelda had kept him in the dark since day one of their journey, and he'd _hated_ that. Now, the pressing, political issue that had necessitated the secrecy in the first place. He leaned forward in his seat, looking intensely at Zelda.

"I..." She made a false start, suddenly hesitant. Being under the gaze of two Sheikah at the same time (who, because of their shared blood, also happened to share the distinctive way of raising their left eyebrow when quizzical) was unnerving, to say the least. "I...wanted to see this place."

For a moment, the room was quiet. And then the explosion came. Unsurprisingly, it was Sheik whose temper snapped.

"What?!" he almost shrieked, jumping from his chair and glaring at her. "All this, all the secrecy, all...everything...because you wanted to go _sightseeing_?!"

Zelda didn't look at him, her eyes glued to her boots and the seemingly fascinating pattern of stone tiles on the floor. There was only a slight nod as a reply.

"What is the matter with you?!" he shouted. "All this time, I was convinced this was important business! You said so yourself! Important to the future, my arse! Why would you lie to me like this?!"

"Because then you would never have agreed to take me," Zelda said quietly.

"You're godsdamned right I wouldn't! If you wanted to just visit, you could have brought an army! We could have been fucking _safe_ —"

Impa, rolling her eyes, rapped her knuckle on her desk. It was a small sound, but it instantly made her nephew shut up. An ingrained response. One of her prouder accomplishments, probably. "That is quite enough, Sheik. You are angry, yes, but she is still a princess, and you _will_ show her the proper respect."

He glared at her, but remained silent, waiting. Impa nodded, and Zelda continued.

"I was going to tell the truth once we'd gotten a sufficient distance from Hyrule," she said. "I wanted...I wanted to see the Studio, and the journey towards it, from a hunter's perspective. I wanted to see what your life is like, Sheik, instead of just hearing your stories. I loved them, you know, the stories. It...they made me want to experience it first hand. An army or heavily armed escorts wouldn't let me do that, so...I lied to you."

She still couldn't look at him, it seemed, as she sank into her chair, now studying the old carvings on Impa's desk. "I was going to tell you when we crossed into Termina, but then constable Founder showed up and...well, it would be too dangerous to tell you, because you'd insist we turn back, but with Ascal hunting you—"

"What?"

It was Impa who interrupted her, and Sheik was flabbergasted. Impa would _never_ commit such a break of protocol. But she had, and she had gone rigid in her seat.

"What did you just say?" the master asked slowly. "Hunted?"

"It's connected to the slavers Sheik and Link stopped in Ordon," Zelda said, noting that Sheik was still stewing with silent anger, eyes flicking from her to his aunt and back repeatedly. "Apparently, the party behind it hired someone specifically to hunt Sheik down and...and..."

"Take my eyes," Sheik said between gritted teeth.

Impa's grip on her cane tightened considerably. "Go on. What happened? A constable showed up?"

"He brought Sheik's friend, Lor, to us. Lor was tortured for information, to make him give up Sheik's location. He refused, and so they..." She couldn't even say it, but silence sometimes speaks more than words. "Sheik's spies were able to free him and send him on to us...and by then it was too late for me to come clean about what I had done. We had to get them both out of Hyrule, and Lor to a doctor, so we went to Clock Town in Termina—"

"Where you found Doctor Kaura," Impa said, nodding slowly. "I remember her name, now. She is the one who saved your life in Kaerwall, is she not?"

"The very same," Zelda answered for him when Sheik was not forthcoming with an answer. She was honestly getting worried now. How angry _was_ her little brother, when he would not even speak to highest authority in his life?

"I have to thank her for that," Impa said. "She has done us a great service."

"I don't think she did it for accolades—"

"Nevertheless, she saved a Sheikah's life. That makes her a friend to our clan. Please, princess, continue."

"Well, in Termina, Sheik went to meet with the hunter stationed there..."

Impa thought for a second. "Juichi," she said. "The tinkerer."

"Why does that surprise you?" Sheik asked, breaking his self-imposed silence in a surprisingly civil tone. "Haven't you received his report?"

Impa looked at him. "Nephew, the only correspondence I have received from Juichi as of late was his acknowledgment that we were in dire need of a doctor up here. After that I have not heard from him. What report would this be?"

Reaching into his shoulder pack, Sheik retrieved the sealed envelope Juichi had given him before they'd left Clock Town. "He sent it by raven, too."

"Ravens are lost all the time," Impa said with a regretful shrug. "Not much that can be done about that, I'm afraid." She opened the envelope and gave the report a cursory glance. "Definitely Juichi's handwriting. So delicate. Does this report reveal the reason for that burn?" she pointed at his face and the ugly mess that was his cheek.

"Controller acid to the face," Sheik said.

Impa blinked. "Controllers? You must be mistaken, nephew, those things are extinct—"

"Oh, must have been another giant fucking centipede that sticks their feelers into people's brains to control them and bleeds acid, then," he said casually, crossing his arms.

He wasn't prepared to be angry on two fronts—he had to shift his attention from Impa to Zelda, and it was difficult to maintain the façade...not to mention the seed of worry for Juichi that had taken root in the pit of his stomach. It was one thing for the controller report to not reach the studio, but what about his autopsy of Ascal, the possible hunter?

"Don't get smart with me, Sheik," Impa said warningly. "Do you have any idea what it could mean if these creatures are allowed to spawn?"

"Absolute disaster, which is why we blew up a dam to drown the things," Sheik replied. "Juichi also contacted other hunters to help him scour the countryside for more of them."

"That is good to hear—hopefully you have nipped their resurgence in the bud."

"But you have not heard from Juichi at all?" Zelda asked, tuning in to Sheik's worry. "Strange, he was supposed to send a report of whatever he found out about Ascal here..."

"Ascal?" Impa asked. "I must say, there is a bewildering amount of information being thrown my way."

"It was a long trip!" Sheik snapped.

"One more outburst like that, and I'll make good on the patrol duty, Sheik."

It was the calm with which she spoke that always got to him. She never raised her voice, and that alone was so...damn infuriating, even more so than the fact that it always _worked_. He nodded.

"Zelda, continue."

"We left Clock Town, but soon after reaching the Terminan border and beginning our ascent into the mountains, we were ambushed by a man named Ascal. He was the one who'd been hunting Sheik, the one who hurt Lor..." She shuddered. "He ordered Sheik to give himself up, so he'd let the rest of us go, but we refused. Someone shot one of Ascal's men, and everything just went...to absolute shit!"

The princess' calm was ended with the last word being shouted. "They attacked, and we fought back. I'm not sure what happened during it, but when it was over they were all dead. Sheik shot him in the head. Juichi turned up—he'd fired the first shot. Turns out Link had asked him to follow us at a distance, because something felt wrong. If he hadn't...Goddesses know if we'd even be here right now."

"I see," Impa said with a nod. "But you said Juichi was examining this Ascal, and would send a report? Why is this?"

"Because...well, we thought he was a hunter. A former one, perhaps."

"Describe him to me," Impa said.

"Tall, and very thin." Zelda searched her brain, trying to recall every detail about him. "He spoke with an upper class accent, like a native Hylian, but his ears were round, like a human's. He had grey hair, slate. Strange eyes, almost yellow...and he wore an outfit very similar to those Sheik wears when he's hunting. And he was...fast."

"And strong," Sheik continued for her, voice calm, much too focused on recalling the brief fight with the man to maintain his (in his opinion) righteous anger. "Much stronger than his frame would suggest. Every blow felt like one from Hafthor, but with a fencing blade and a _kukri_. I wouldn't stand a chance if I'd tried to beat him in a straight-up fight."

"I don't recall a hunter matching that description," Impa said. "At least not here. Perhaps he is from one of the other workshops...but we keep each other informed of those who leave, just in case. I will write to the other masters—perhaps we can find out who he is."

"Doesn't matter," Sheik said. "Bastard's dead. Put a bullet right in his skull."

"And good riddance to him," Impa agreed. "Nevertheless, I would still like to discover his identity. I do not appreciate hunters hunting their own kind, regardless of the motivation. And then?"

"Juichi stayed behind to examine the corpse and send whatever information he could glean to the Studio," Zelda said. "But if you haven't heard from him..."

"He might have forgotten, or perhaps didn't find anything of interest at all and decided not to bother us with it," Impa suggested. "Though...that would not be like him. Juichi has always been...meticulous in his attention to detail. Even if he didn't find anything, he'd probably send us a detailed report of said nothing and accurate anatomical drawings." She nodded to herself. "I will dispatch a raven to Clock Town and inquire after him, and tell the other hunters in Termina to look for him. Hopefully, he has simply gotten too wrapped up in another one of his projects."

Her tone was anything but certain, and that worried Sheik even more.

"Anyway...that explains a great deal," Impa continued. "And now you are here." She surveyed the two of them carefully, before looking directly at Zelda. "I won't pretend that I'm not unhappy about your decision to lie to Sheik and force him to take you here, Princess. It was irresponsible and downright dangerous. What if something happened to you on the road? You are the last and only heir to the throne of Hyrule—your death would throw the kingdom into chaos."

"I know," she said, bowing her head to her former bodyguard. "I apologise. I allowed my feelings and selfish desires to cloud my judgement, and dragged Sheik into it."

"I am not the one you should be apologising to," Impa said. "However, your lie also seems to have come at an opportune time. It forced Sheik to leave Castle Town, where he was apparently being hunted already. For all I know, the impromptu journey to the Studio could very well be what saved his life, in that it bought you enough time and forced this Ascal person to overplay his hand." She took a deep breath. "So, I feel conflicted. However, in the end, you made it here safely—all of you—and for that I am grateful."

A slow roll of thunder in the distance sent vibrations through the entire castle, and Impa shook her head.

"Unfortunately, as the first winter storm is upon us, you will be forced to stay here for a while, Princess," she said. "And knowing our luck, by the time it blows over the pass will have frozen over. It seems you are, for the time being, stuck here. You will be afforded every courtesy we can manage, of course, but—"

"Please, do not trouble yourself over me," Zelda said, shaking her head. "I've caused you enough trouble. I will work, just like everyone else, to earn my keep."

Sheik wanted to snort at that, but forced the desire down. He had no idea how Impa would react to it.

Impa snorted for him. "Well, we could always use an extra hand." She glanced at her pocket watch. "Hm, seems it is suppertime. For the time being, perhaps we should keep your identity a secret...though I doubt it will remain so for long."

She stood up, and Sheik and Zelda did the same. She moved to stand in front of her nephew, pulling down his collar to reveal the true extent of the damage to his cheek, touching it carefully. "It could be worse," she said, before putting her arms around Sheik in what felt like the most awkward embrace of all time.

"Welcome home," she said uncertainly. "Now, let us eat."


	30. The Cell

Link wasn't psychic, and he had been told by multiple people in Ordon that he could sometimes be a little dense, but it did not take a genius to see that whatever Sheik, Zelda, and Impa had spoken about in private had been upsetting for everyone involved.

Well, perhaps not Impa. The intimidating master hunter was sitting at the head of one of the long tables, observing the assembled hunters while occasionally nibbling at her food.

Sheik and the princess, however, looked like they wanted to be anywhere but near each other, which Link found strange. Had Zelda finally revealed her reason for coming here, and he didn't like it? Or had something else come up?

"We'll probably get to know what happened sooner or later," Lor said quietly from his seat next to Link. He looked exhausted, barely poking at his plate. "Sheik has never been able to stay quiet for long when he's upset."

"I hope so," Link murmured just as quietly, hoping Sheik couldn't hear him from his seat to Impa's right. "He looks like he's about to explode."

"Maybe he's just pent-up," Lor offered, giving him a grin that was probably meant to be devilish, but it only made him look even more tired. "Maybe you can offer him...succour?"

Link offered only a blank face in return.

"Er...perhaps you can help him work out some...kinks?"

Link blushed and glared down at his own plate, wondering what sort of war crime had been committed in the kitchens in order for this to be served. "You're going to bed after this," he growled.

"Ooh, so strict," Lor said, wiggling his eyebrows. The movement was anything but quick.

The Ordonian gave up, shovelling food into his mouth like his life depended on it and trying to ignore Lor's triumphant look. He looked to his other companions instead, finding Kaura on the other side of the wide table, having already finished her supper and reading a small book Link assumed to be her journal, spectacles resting gently on the tip of her nose. The hunters on either side of her were giving her strange looks and a wide berth, sensing that she was not one for conversation at the moment.

Really, the hunters of the Studio were _all_ giving them strange looks. Link had been somewhat welcomed by them as a recruit, most of them offering their condolences for his poor choice in a career, and Sheik had barely been able to sit down for all the welcoming handshakes and embraces he'd been on the receiving end of, but the rest had all been treated rather coldly. Presumably it was because they were outsiders, and didn't really have any business being here. Link was glad Tao was still asleep in the room he shared with Kaura, or he'd probably be very uncomfortable right now.

The only hunter who _hadn't_ kept their distance was Ayla, the Gerudo who was sitting beside Sheik, chattering excitedly with the younger Sheikah. She'd given the others the same treatment, asking them about a million questions a second, but she kept gravitating towards Sheik, whom she kept calling her little brother. As much as Zelda clearly wasn't speaking to Sheik at the moment (and vice-versa), every time Ayla called Sheik little brother, the princess threw a glare at her.

Jealousy was an ugly thing, no matter who it came from.

Link suppressed a yawn. As excited as everything was, the journey was catching up with him and he was feeling just as tired as Lor looked. He nodded along to a story the hunter (a young woman from Lumina) next to him was telling. He'd lost the thread at some point, but apparently it involved a waterfall, some creature called a _nøkk_ , and a violin. She'd smashed it over the thing's head, which it had _not_ appreciated. The other hunters roared with laughter at that, and he mustered an amused grin.

As the laughter died down, Impa stood up and tapped her cane lightly on the stone floor. Even though the room was filled with seventy hunters, all chattering excitedly with each other, the noise died down almost immediately. Presumably, the sound of the silver tip on stone was a familiar one to them all.

"Brothers, sisters," Impa announced, her voice easily carrying through the large hall, "another winter is upon us."

The gathered hunters groaned at that, someone shouting "Bloody snow!" in the back of the hall.

"My sentiments exactly," Impa said with a somewhat amused look. "Especially after the flooding in the lower storage rooms, which cost us at least a fourth of our larder."

Another groan echoed among them, and Link joined in this time. That was not a good thing to hear. Winters were hard enough on the plains of Hyrule, but at least the inhabitants of Ordon'd had the opportunity to trade with the neighbouring villages for supplies. No such luck up here if Whiteridge didn't have anything to spare.

"We have made calculations, however, and even though it will be a lean winter, we should have enough food to last us until the pass melts again, even with the added number of guests who will be staying with us for the next four months."

Impa nodded to the each of them.

"You all know my nephew, Sheik, who has joined us from Hyrule." There was an approving murmur and shouts of welcome from the back, which Sheik returned with a nod. "He has brought with him a new recruit, who is hoping to join our ranks: Link of Ordon. Please, stand and let them all see you."

Link did as he was told, hesitantly rising from his seat.

"Fresh meat for the grinder!" someone shouted, which caused the hall to break out in laughter.

"Doesn't look like much," was added. "I give him six months!"

"What is he, a farmer?"

"Can he even fight?"

With each sentence, Link felt his face burn more and more. He'd expected something like that. Bravado in groups, and all that. Humiliating the newcomer, which was apparently meant to build character. It was still humiliating, though, and he wondered if Impa had done this on purpose, to make him feel utterly—

Sheik slammed his wooden cup into the table top, the resulting noise shutting everyone up. He looked anything but amused as he too rose, pointing at Link. "This man has saved my life twice—once by shooting a lycan straight through the eye! He has been fighting bandits since he was old enough to wield a sword! Twice he has accompanied me on hunts, and twice he has proven himself indispensable—as far as I'm concerned, he's already one of us. How many of you can claim to have killed a werewolf with a single shot?" He glared at them all. "Show him some respect!"

With a huff, he sat back down, giving Link an apologetic look. Link didn't care—all he wanted to do was to snog him senseless. The awed silence from the gathered hunters was just a bonus, really.

"...what about the second time?" the Luminan next to him asked.

"What?" Sheik raised an eyebrow.

"How did he save your life the second time?"

"He..." Sheik mumbled, causing the room as a whole to lean in further.

"Speak up!" someone shouted.

"He dragged me out of a sewer channel!" Sheik repeated loudly, clearing his throat. "It's not funny!" he shouted when everyone began to laugh again. "We were blowing up a cistern! There was a skulker king!" It didn't help, and Sheik gently lowered his forehead to the table, throwing up a rude finger gesture to the room at large.

"All right, that is enough," Impa interrupted, once again invoking utter silence with but a tap of her cane once more. "As I said, this is Link of Ordon, and he has already shown himself quite capable. Whether he passes the _final_ test, however, is yet to be seen. I expect you all to welcome him, show him how we do things around here, and offer him insight into what it means to be a hunter. We can only trust each other, after all."

She nodded towards Lor. "This is Lorasi of Castle Town. He has been a friend of Sheik's for many years, and has proven himself a friend to _us_ by refusing to offer information to our enemies under duress. His current state is a testament to this, and I, for one, salute him." She did so, placing her right clenched fist over her heart.

The hunters closest to them did the same, while the rest knocked their fists on the table as a show of support. The gesture had Lor's eyes widen considerably, and Link gave him a grin at that.

"Looks like you just made a lot of new friends, Lor," he said over the din.

"And this," Impa continued, "is Doctor Kaura, from Termina. She is the one who treated Lorasi after his grievous injuries, and has accompanied him here to oversee his recovery. She is also the one who treated my nephew after the cowardly attempt on his life in Kaerwall, for which I will be eternally grateful, and declare her a friend to the hunters and the Half Sun Clan. I am sorry to say she will not be staying with us permanently, but I can only hope she will concede to my small request to perhaps offer her medical expertise until the winter passes."

Kaura shot the Sheikah a sharp glare, aware that she could not deny that request without appearing graceless and ungrateful for the shelter she was offered, nodding slowly. "My expertise is yours for the winter, Master Impa," she said. "Though I'm afraid I was forced to leave most of my equipment behind in my clinic. I am rather low on supplies—"

"We have a well-stocked infirmary," Impa interjected quickly, her eyes triumphant. "You will want for nothing in that particular area."

"Then I suppose I am at your service, for the time being."

"For which I thank you." Impa then turned to Zelda last, giving the girl a long look. "This is Hilda—"

"Don't you mean Princess Zelda of Hyrule?" a deep voice rumbled from within the vicinity of the fireplace.

A collective gasp ran through the crowd, and Impa looked anything but pleased. "I do not know what you—"

"I've seen her photograph," the voice rumbled again. "She didn't have glasses in that one, but that's her."

"It is!" another voice unhelpfully added. "That's the princess!"

"What's she doing here?"

The number of voices asking questions became a wall of sound, none of which was intelligible to Link. Zelda looked immensely uncomfortable under all the attention (or perhaps it was once again her true purpose here), looking to Impa for help.

This time, it was no gentle tap that brought the hunters to heel. The silver tip crashed into the stone tile so loud it sounded like a gunshot, immediately throwing the hall into a stunned silence. The master hunter's sharp eyes roamed over the hunters, boring into theirs until they looked down in submission. She did this with every person in the room, until her eyes finally landed on the princess once more.

"Yes, this is Princess Zelda of Hyrule," she conceded. "Perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could hide her identity from you. However, her business here is of a confidential nature that I cannot reveal to you for the sake of our security and that of Hyrule. Matters of state are sensitive, and the fewer who know about it the better." She lowered her voice, then, dangerous and forceful. "You will not speak a word of her presence here to anyone; not even amongst yourselves. Is that understood?"

There were murmurs of agreement, but that was clearly not good enough.

"Is that _understood_?!"

Link could have sworn he heard the roof beams rattle at the boom of her voice, but that might have been his exhaustion talking. Regardless, the volume had the desired effect, and the entirety of the gathered hunters sang out as one: "Understood, Master!"

"Good," Impa said with a smile. "You will all be on your best behaviours around her highness, naturally."

With that, she sat down and continued eating, and the impromptu meeting was over, leaving Link with one hell of a second impression of the master hunter.

He _liked_ her.

* * *

After supper, he was close to collapsing. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he was embarrassed to find himself stumbling more than even Lor with his injured leg was. When his foot caught on an (admittedly) uneven step for the seventh time, he was quite sure that nothing good would come from staying awake from much longer.

"You all right?" Lor asked, craning his head to look at the Hylian with concerned eyes.

Keeping in mind that if he fell, _Lor_ would also fall, Link righted himself and nodded. "Yeah, just tired, that's all."

"Me too," Lor said. "Mountain climbing really takes it out of you, even on horseback, it seems."

They were heading back to their rooms. Sheik and Zelda had been whisked away by Impa once more after supper (undoubtedly do discuss the important matters of state, or possibly make them act civilised towards each other again), and Kaura had asked to be taken to the infirmary, insisting she needed to see where she would be working.

"The trip really does take it out of you, yeah," Ayla agreed, appearing at the top of the stairs to the western tower. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you got back to your rooms all right. This place can be a maze to newcomers. Hell, it can be a maze to those who have lived here for years, even. Need some help?"

"Nah, we're good," Link said. "Ayla, right?"

"That's right," she replied, grinning. "And you're Link and Lorasi."

"Lor's fine," Lor said, just as they reached the top of the stairs.

"You got it, Lor." She gave him a strange look, reaching out and tracing the tattoo on his cheek with a finger. "I've seen this design before, you know."

"You have?" Lor said, shoulders slumping a little. Of course, once news spread of his former status as a slave...

"Yeah," Ayla confirmed, eyes searching his, expression softening from what she seemed to find there. "I'm sorry for what you've been through...but you're safe now. I can promise you that."

Lor seemed to believe that, offering her a small smile in return. "Thank you."

"Anytime, kiddo," she said. "Former property's gotta stick together, right?"

"Link."

He turned.

Sheik was at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the bannister, looking hesitant. "May I have a word?"

Without warning, Ayla took Lor's weight and slung his arm over her shoulder. "I'll get him back to your room. See you later, hotshot."

Silently, Sheik led him through several corridors on the ground floor, past the workshops and into a relatively cold section of the fortress. Outside, the storm had hit with full force, which had the whole place creaking and whistling from the strong winds. Snow had already begun to pile up, and Link found himself immensely grateful they'd made it here in time. Behind a sturdy-looking reinforced door was a longer hallway lined with tall, thin doors on either side. Remnants of heavy locks could be seen beneath their handles.

Sheik fished a heavy-looking key from one of his pockets and headed for one of the middle doors, unlocking it quickly.

"My cell," he explained, entering with Link close on his heels. A candle was quickly lit, and Link nearly gasped.

Cell was indeed an apt word to describe what was, ostensibly, Sheik's living quarters at the studio. It was perhaps wide enough for three people to stand side by side, and about the length of a horse carriage, perhaps a little shorter. The only furniture in the room was a bed that took up most of the back wall, and a small desk with a single chair took up one side. There was no window, fresh air was provided by a narrow metal channel in the corner of the ceiling. It was whistling gently because of the strong winds outside. A carpet had been added to the floor, both to dampen noise and to provide some semblance of comfort. Apart from that, the only thing that seemed to suggest a person even lived in this place were the piles of books on the desk and on the floor by the bed.

There was no fireplace, and no other visible means of providing warmth, and Link could feel himself shivering already.

A dusty broom stood in one corner—Sheik must just have finished cleaning it, as the bed sheets looked fresh and clean.

"A little lacking in decor, I agree," Sheik said, shrugging helplessly. "But like I said, this room is mostly used for sleeping. Most of my time here is either spent in my workshop, in the library, or on patrol. Most of the time I sleep in my workshop, because it's far warmer by the forges than in here."

"Sensible," Link said, nodding. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

He didn't mean to be rude, but he was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. He had a busy day tomorrow, apparently, and he wanted to get as much rest as he possibly could.

"I'm sorry about my aunt," Sheik said, glaring at the wall. "She shouldn't have introduced you like that. Having killed a lycanthrope, you're already much farther along as a hunter than many others. You deserve respect for that."

"I didn't mind—"

"Don't lie, I saw how uncomfortable you were." Sheik paced a little ("little" being the operative word given how tiny his cell was), nearly knocking over one of the book piles. "Please don't judge the others on that, though—most of them are good people...but...group mentality, and all that."

"Like I said, I don't mind," Link said more firmly. "I'm looking forward to meeting them all properly."

"You'll probably regret saying that by tomorrow evening." Sheik grinned. "Anyway, I just wanted to apologise on behalf of Impa, whom will surely be thorn in both our sides until spring. Just wanted to let you know that her bark is worse than her bite...most of the time."

Link decided to flip the tables. "What're you and Zelda so angry about?" he asked. "You haven't been able to look at each other since before supper."

Sheik hesitated. "Ah...noticed that, did you?" He paced some more, looking annoyed. "It's not really my place to say," he muttered. "State secrets, and all that." He sounded bitter, but also gave a mirthless chuckle, like it was all a big joke. "Either way, it's not something you should concern yourself with, Link. You have more important things to be doing—training, for one."

Realising Sheik was deflecting, but not really feeling like arguing at the moment, Link nodded. "'S why I was heading to our room. Planned on getting some sleep."

"Ah...in that case, I apologise. Do you need me to lead you back, or...?"

"Nah, I can find my way. Good night, Sheik."

His hand was on the door handle when Sheik suddenly spoke, "Wait."

He turned around...and found himself wrapped in a tight embrace, and Sheik's lips on his in a chaste, but loving kiss. Link returned it, hugging Sheik tightly back and kissing back. He'd missed this. A lot. To say he was relieved after the tension between them since Ascal's attack was an understatement, and this was...indescribable. Sheik had the softest lips...

He didn't want it to end, but at some point they both had to breathe, and they reluctantly separated.

"So...I guess my cheek isn't _that_ repulsive," Sheik said, looking aside in a surprisingly bashful way. Link smiled.

"Not in the least."

"And...you still want to...explore... _this_?"

Instead of answering, Link decided to _show_ him what his answer to that was, capturing the Sheikah with another kiss.

Maybe _one_ good thing had come out of staying awake.


	31. The Subject

Sheik felt an easy smile coming to his face as he strolled through hallways and corridors of his childhood home. It was freezing, his knee was aching, and an unholy racket ahead promised nothing but headaches for the unwary who did not bring ear protection. He descended a short set of stairs (glaring at the particular step that had once done battle with his knee), and flung open the large doors to the workshop. Warm air buffeted him, flowing out from between the doors like a hot tide, making him shiver with delight. Waking up to what felt like a sub-zero temperature in his cell definitely made _this_ moment worth it...though already he could feel the pounding of the hammers in his skull.

It was just after dawn, and the hunters were already hard at work in their booths, as much for the heat their hearths and stoves provided as the tinkering they did on their weapons and tools.

"Shut the damned doors, you're letting the heat out!"

Predictably, he wasn't allowed to enjoy the moment for long. He shouted out an apology and quickly shut the doors behind him, making sure there wasn't a draft. Annoyed grumbling from the many booths made him grin. There were so many things he'd missed about the Studio, and this, surprisingly, was one of them.

He strode among the workshops and found the one that belonged to him; dark and cold. He quickly lit his hearth, noting that none of his tools or other equipment had been touched.

_Good to know Impa kept that rule in effect, even while I was gone,_ he thought as he went to his sloped desk and opened one of the drawers, withdrawing the sheaf of papers he'd left there after his last stay. He smiled, looking at what he'd considered ingenious designs then, but now seemed like childish doodles. Some of the ideas had been good, but the ways he'd tried to execute them were anything but.

He found the latest design and studied the amateurish sketch closely. He'd developed the idea further in Hyrule, but all his new designs were back in Hyrule.

_Suppose I'll have to work from memory,_ he thought as he turned over to a blank page and began to draw the sword he'd had in mind, trying to remember the measurements and calculations he'd spent quite some time to perfect. Of course, _perfect_ probably wasn't the right word, and he was sure he'd get a hiding from the first hunter who took a look at it for forgetting something instrumental...but still, he was happier with it than anything else he'd tried to create.

"Good morning, cousin."

Sheik looked up, spotting Kiro standing outside his booth, sans his oversized hat. He'd apparently learned from the last time he'd attempted to wear it inside a hall where fire and sparks were ubiquitous, and open flames tended to roar into life at the worst of times.

About eight years older than Sheik, Kiro had been a presence at the Studio for as long as he could remember. Sheik wouldn't go as far as to call him a friend, but still...family was family. Even if words sharper than razors sometimes flew between them. It wasn't as if Sheik hated him, but there was something about that self-assured smirk that Kiro sometimes aimed in his direction just...grated at him.

"Cousin," he greeted back. "Where's your stupid hat?"

Okay, so maybe Sheik wasn't entirely innocent in all this. But Kiro had started it!

...maybe.

He wasn't sure.

Maybe it had been him.

Kiro grinned crookedly. "I'm banned from wearing it inside," he said, leaning against the doorway. "Knocked down some alchemical equipment upstairs, brought the ire of the twins down on my head. Ard is scary when you've ruined of his experiments."

"You learned that just then?" Sheik replied, shaking his head. "I wish I'd been here for that."

"You've missed a lot of fun around here, really," Kiro said with another grin. "Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. Didn't get a chance to since I was on watch yesterday. I'll be at the range if you need me—have to break my own record sometime, right? From what I remember of the last time you were here, you could use some practice too."

"Keep that tone up and I'll use _you_ for practice," Sheik warned, but his tone was good-natured. Kiro was a natural sharpshooter, and Sheik knew he'd never stand a chance of beating him. Put them both in a sparring ring, though, and Sheik would leave him with a bloody nose every time.

"Heh, I'll keep that mind. Have good day, cuz."

"You too."

He spent the rest of the morning finishing the sketch, hoping to be able to take it to one of the smiths later that day, perhaps get it looked at by one of the twins for the alloy work. It would be fiddly for whoever made the first couple of prototypes, but he had confidence that it was doable. It'd certainly be well-received, if it worked.

_Or so I hope, at least_.

He heard her approach long before she stopped outside his booth, clearing her throat, as if her cane hadn't already gotten his attention. "Nephew."

"Aunt," he greeted back. "Good morning."

"Afternoon, actually."

He glanced at the closest window. Useless endeavour, the storm outside made everything as dark as night. "Huh, didn't notice," he said. "Where is Link? He wasn't with Lor and the others at breakfast."

"He's in the lecture hall with Mana," she said turning her neck this way and that, working out what appeared to be an annoying crick. "She's assessing his...cognitive abilities."

Sheik scowled. "You mean you're checking to see if he's not stupid," he corrected her. "I can assure you, he isn't."

"I need to know if he's able to learn both from theory _and_ practice," she countered. "Not everything can be learned by doing it, as you well know." She looked him up and down. "You seem to believe that I intend to reject him no matter how he fares."

"It wouldn't surprise me," he said petulantly, once again feeling like a child under that intense stare of hers. "You never liked any of the others I tried to recruit."

"Because you didn't know what to look for in freelancers." Impa frowned. "Most had the skills, but there is a particular mind-set required as well. From what I have seen of the Hylian so far, he has potential...which can be moulded. You did well, bringing him here."

He blinked.

_Was that...praise?_

"That said, he still has some way to go...but then, so do you." She turned around and beckoned him to follow her. "There is something I'd like you to see. Come."

She led him to the basement dungeons, an area he wasn't very familiar with due to its lack of use. The last he'd seen it, it was a crumbling mess, but there had clearly been made an effort to restore some of the cells to their former...well, glory was a bad word to use. He wrinkled his nose at the smell that seemed to permeate the air—mould and...wet dog?

_No, not dog..._

He reached for the pistol in his belt on instinct, but his aunt's hand on his stopped him.

"It's quite safe," she said assuringly (or tried to, at least; her tone remained the same as usual). "It's contained."

"You've captured one?" Sheik asked in disbelief. "How?"

"It wasn't easy," she confessed. "I spent weeks tracking it—"

"You hunted it yourself?"

She looked vaguely offended at that, fixing him with a hard look. "What is that supposed to mean? I am _master hunter_ for a reason, you know."

Sheik cleared his throat. "Nothing, it's just...it's been a while since you were out on a hunt last, is all."

"Yes, well, this is a secret project of mine, and I didn't feel comfortable having someone else do my dirty work. I had support, of course, in case you were worried."

"You could have gotten yourself killed," he said admonishingly. "And you didn't even see fit to inform me."

She pursed her lips. "There are quite a few things that I don't inform you about, Sheik. Things you don't _need_ to know about, like—"

"Like the fact that you could easily have gotten yourself killed and...and left me al—alo—" He couldn't finish the sentence, wondering why he was getting so unreasonably upset—she was alive, wasn't she? If she'd gotten hurt, or worse, then...he'd wished worse on her during his training, hadn't he?

_Childish anger, but still..._

Impa's face softened slightly at that. "You wouldn't have been alone, Sheik. Of all things, you will never be alone."

He pushed past her and walked further into the dungeons. "Where is it, then? Show me what was so important to risk your life for."

"Middle cell on the right," she called after him. "Don't step beyond the line on the floor."

He saw the thing huddled on the floor of its cell, a pathetic heap of fur, claws, and teeth. Pathetic, that is, until he reached the line, at which point the lycanthrope sprang into action, snarling and clawing at him through the bars. He backed into the opposite wall, heart pounding as his hunter training kicked in, flooding his system with the adrenaline necessary to fight these damn things. It was hard not to draw his pistol and put a bullet in its skull right then and there, but his aunt's sudden presence at his side, her stance calm and relaxed, was comforting.

"He's learned that cowering and whimpering doesn't work on us, so he just tries to kill us right away now," she said. "Surprisingly smart, but not intelligence on our level—not anymore. Whatever he was before he contracted lycanthropy is long gone." She stepped a little closer, still out of the beast's reach. "And we're left with this—a ravenous, murderous monster whose only purpose seems to be kill...and possibly mate."

"M-mate?"

"He displays periods of...excitement," she said, searching for the right word to what had suddenly become a very awkward and uncomfortable conversation. "We've never seen that kind of behaviour before, not in the field. Could be something we've missed, or perhaps an effect of being caged, but it's hard to tell. Either way, Bob appears to be a randy fellow."

_Bob? Really?_ Sheik bit down on his lip to keep himself from saying anything.

"We're learning new things from him every day, and we will continue to do so until we find a way to transmit the disease."

He looked at her, then. "The disease?"

"The lycan-sickness," she elaborated. "We're trying to find out exactly how it works, where it comes from, and how it infects them. With any luck, we'll be able to discover its vector, and perhaps...well, turn it into a weapon." She sighed, staring at her boots. "Not really in the spirit of The Hunt that Iwan had in mind, I think, but he had superior numbers back then. He wasn't in as dire straits as we are." She looked at him. "You don't approve," she noted.

"It sounds dangerous," he said. "And it can cause more trouble than it's worth. What if something happens and the sickness changes? What if it suddenly infects those who aren't lycans?"

"The thought has struck me as well, nephew. Chances are we won't ever find out how the disease works, but if there is even a small chance I can limit the number of hunters I lose to these things...I will take it." She looked back at the beast, grimacing. "And Bob will simply have to put up with it."

* * *

Link stepped out of the lecture hall, his head swimming with numbers, dates, diagrams, and everything between. His mother had ensured he could read and write, and the sort of math that was useful on a farm, but the kind of calculations that the matronly Mana had just introduced him to were completely foreign to him.

She'd helped him along, of course, building on the knowledge he already possessed, but when she'd told him to calculate the airspeed velocity of a bullet in flight on a windy day, he'd thrown in the towel, declaring that he'd never become a hunter if that was what they expected of him...to which she'd laughed and patted his shoulder.

_"It's a useful mathematic formula, child,_ " she'd said, still chuckling. _"But far from necessary. I just wanted to assess your level. There is plenty of time to learn these things. Now, I would like to test your knowledge of history..._ "

And test him she had. He was fairly knowledgeable about Hyrule's history, and some of the surrounding countries'. He'd done well on that particular quiz. She had finished the test with a quick run-through of the basic monster types, and how to best deal with them. There were many subgroups and individual species, all with different behaviours and preferred strategies and tactics. Some of them didn't even sound real, especially the ones from the category she referred to as the Undead, but the reverence with which she spoke of them had him convinced that it was all true. And then she'd asked him what he could remember of them.

Finally, she'd asked him to give as thorough a report about his first hunt with Sheik as he possibly could, from his recruitment to the moment they'd parted at the inn. This was to see how well he could remember and give an accurate recollection of events. The events of that particular night were burned into his brain, or so it felt like, and he'd given a, in his opinion, highly detailed account. He tried to downplay the moment he'd taken down the healthy lycanthrope with a single shot, but she'd focused intently on it, asking him again and again about it, how Sheik had reacted, and so on.

That had been the most exhausting part, in his opinion. Her insistence on going over that particular shot again and again and again had gotten on his nerves towards the end, and by the time she finally relented and let him continue, he found himself barely able to tell her the rest of the story.

_"Reports are mind-numbingly dull, both to give and receive. That is why it is important to be brief and factual, to give the most details with the fewest words. It is an art you will learn soon enough, but I hope this little exercise gave you a basic understanding of the procedure. It is never fun having to explain something again and again to your superiors. Best get it over with the first time. Now, run along and get yourself some lunch—you look famished."_

And he was, which was why he headed for the great hall immediately after leaving the lecture, feeling dizzy. He wasn't really paying attention, and it was only a matter of time before he ran into something...or someone.

That someone just happened to be a princess.

And just for extra measure, it was their foreheads that met first with a loud clacking sound. They groaned, holding their respective heads.

"I don't think I like this new way of greeting each other," Zelda muttered, giving Link a weak grin. "Whatever happened to simply saying hello?"

"Out of style," Link replied, mirroring her expression. "We have to keep up with the times."

She laughed at that, pulling his hands away so she could inspect the damage. "I think you'll survive, mister hunter."

He did the same for her. "As will you, Your Highness." He paused, noticing that her eyes were a little red, and not from the lack of sleep. "What's wrong?"

She blinked, taking a moment to realise what he was talking about. "Oh, n-nothing, I just...just..." She gave him a miserable look. "I can't even lie convincingly today, can I, much less walk like a normal person?"

"Does this have something to do with you and Sheik?" he asked, leading her down a smaller, less-trafficked corridor, out of the way of prying eyes and ears. "What happened last night?"

"I...I can't tell you," she said regretfully, leaning tiredly against the stone wall, not caring how dusty it was. It was good thing she was wearing her travelling outfit rather than her royal finery, or it'd never be clean again. "I did something stupid, and it made Sheik angry. I tried to explain, but he wouldn't hear it. Now he won't even look at me..."

Link nodded slowly. He wondered what Zelda could possibly have done to upset Sheik so badly, given how close the two of them were. Siblings fought, of course; he and Akia had been no exception, but their disagreements and arguments had always been short-lived. Explosive, but never long-lasting. He didn't pry, however. Whatever this was, it was clearly between the two of them. But perhaps he could help...

"Sheik will come around, I'm sure of it," he said, smiling at her. "I mean, you've known him longer than me, so I'm sure you can confirm what Lor told me."

"Which is?" she asked.

"That Sheik has a fierce temper, but it's the kind that blows up right away and doesn't last very long. I mean, he forgave me, and I'm sure what I did was far stupider than what set him off this time." He grinned widely at her. "If he can forgive the dumb farm oaf, why wouldn't he forgive you?"

She couldn't help but smile at that, and patted his arm. "You give yourself far less credit than you deserve, Link—many words can be used to describe you, but 'dumb' and 'oaf' are not part of them." She sighed, suddenly leaning against him in a way that him instinctively put his arms around her in a hug...which had him wondering if he was doing something wildly inappropriate. "You're probably right—but I cannot help but worry that he will never speak to me again."

He snorted at that (another highly inappropriate thing to do in front of royalty) and hugged her tighter, figuring he'd already condemned himself to life in prison for his breach of etiquette. "That is absolute crap, and you know it. Even Sheik probably knows he's acting ridiculous—hell, maybe he's already waiting for a good moment to talk to you."

"I'm glad one of us is an optimist," she said, separating herself from him. "Thank you, though. I'm glad to have you as a friend, Link."

"Likewise," he replied, feeling a slight flutter in his stomach at the thought of being considered a friend to a princess. "Now, why don't we get some lunch? I've just had the worst school lesson of my life, and I feel like I'm about to pass out." He offered her his arm, which she took with a slight giggle. "Care to accompany me, your grace?"

"By all means, lead the way," she said.

* * *

Lor wasn't sure how he ended up in one of the Studio's tower solars, chatting with Ayla the Gerudo over steaming hot tea, but there he was. The tower was continually buffeted by the strong winds outside, which had the whole thing creaking and popping loudly, but the stove next to their chairs kept them warm and comfortable. The stairs had been something of a challenge, with his stupid leg, but she'd hardly given him a choice as she'd practically carried him up here.

He had a feeling that the golden-eyed woman had been waiting for him that morning, parking herself outside the hall while they'd had breakfast and immediately kidnapped him the moment he'd finished, just after Link had been whisked away to the lecture hall.

"It's nice to have someone new to talk to," she'd offered as an explanation, which was utter shite in his opinion, but she'd amassed an impressive amount of food, and had hot tea, so he wasn't about to turn her down on the basis of having a terrible excuse to bring him here in the first place. Besides, he had to admit that he was curious about her—specifically, the comment she'd offered the night before.

_"Former property's got to stick together, right?"_

He had not been surprised at her recognising the design of his tattoo—it was a variation of a common one found in slave markets all over the world—but that implication...he found himself wanting to ask her about it, but it was difficult to find the right moment, the right lieu in conversation in which to pose it...

"You want to see mine, don't you?" she asked suddenly, giving him a far sharper look than he'd seen on her so far.

"Uh...I...er..."

"It's all right," she said, nodding. "I guess I left you on the hook, huh? Here." She leaned forward and turned her head to the side, while pulling her ponytail (as red as the dawn) up, revealing a mark almost identical to his on the back of her neck, just beneath her hairline. "A bit easier to conceal than yours, I'd say. Whoever got you tried to ensure you'd never stand a chance even if you escaped, huh?"

She spoke so...casually about it, unlike everyone else he'd ever broached the subject with, including Sheik. It was...refreshing. He nodded. "You can say that," he said. "I don't think they expected me to survive long enough for it to become an issue. Kids aren't worth the trouble, unless they're put to work right away."

She gave him a knowing nod. "And they always find something for them to do," she said, making a disgusted face. "How young were you?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he said with a shrug. "Five? Six? I don't remember much. They gave me the tattoo when I was eight, I think. Wore a collar before then."

"Ten, here," Ayla said. "Captured at seven. Bandits attacked our caravan and ran off with us kids, sold us to the highest bidder in Marona. They almost branded me instead, but that would apparently lower my value, so...out came the ink." She closed her eyes. "I can still feel it...every prick of that damn needle..."

Lor could, too. It had been one of the worst and most humiliating nights of his life...and knowing that he could never go anywhere without people realising what he was or had been...it was a wonder he hadn't ended it all himself, at some point.

"Which actually brings me to the topic I was going to wait with...but I'm impatient that way." She reached forward and traced Lor's tattoo, just like she had the night before. "It was petty of them, doing that...on your face, of all places. I can fix it."

He blinked. "F-fix it?"

She nodded and rolled up her sleeve, showing off another tattoo, though this one was meant to be aesthetically pleasing rather than a mark of ownership—a scimitar and a crescent moon. "My clan's mark," she explained. "I never returned to them, after I was freed, but I decided to keep some part of them with me, always. Did it myself." She rolled her sleeve back down, and once again touched his face, which he found he didn't mind so much anymore. She was...comforting. "Anyway, if you want, I can turn this mark into something less...slave-y."

He snorted at her choice of words, but he was surprised at just how appealing her offer was. Getting tattooed had been one of the most painful experiences of his life...well, certain other recent events aside, and he'd rather not suffer it again...but if it meant that he could actually take a walk without anyone immediately recognising his mark for what it was...

"Nothing big, of course," Ayla continued, oblivious to his train of thought. "Just something that'll look like it was done on purpose, as recognition of something. A warrior's symbol, perhaps?"

"I'm not a warrior, though," he said.

"Given what you've been through, I'd say you've earned one," she said dismissively. "A hunter's mark, then, to show our brothers and sisters out there that you can be trusted. That you're one of us."

"Would that even be allowed?" he asked, oddly fascinated by that idea.

"I'm sure I can convince Impa," Ayla said with a grin. "Would make you even more popular with the others, methinks."

"I..."

"You don't have to decide right now, of course," she said. "We've a long winter ahead of us, so you've got plenty of time to think about it...and I can bother Impa until she lets me do it." She chuckled. "Just thought I'd offer, y'know?"

"I appreciate that, thank you," Lor said, wondering if he was dreaming. Waking up in that stinking cell again, now, after all this, would be...crushing. He tried to hide his frown, but Ayla seemed to have the eyes of a hawk.

"So, do you have any embarrassing stories about Sheik?" she asked quickly, changing the subject. "My little brother is notoriously tight-lipped about his escapades in the great big world, and he likes to act mature and tough, but...well, let's just say that I've seen him do his fair share of stupid things."

Lor immediately grinned at that. "Oh, I've plenty...but can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you call him little brother?" He wasn't sure if he was asking about something that wasn't his business whatsoever, but he was immensely curious, especially with the way Zelda kept throwing him outraged glances whenever Ayla referred to Sheik that way.

Admittedly, he himself had been outraged that he'd been travelling with a _princess_ all this time without anyone telling him, but he could, in hindsight, understand the need for secrecy. He'd still been a little hurt, though, that he was the only one who hadn't been trusted with this information. Still, though, he was just a whore, so...his opinion wasn't important.

"It's not really a long story, that," she said with a chuckle. "I was coming back from a hunt at a time when Sheik happened to be visiting the Studio. This was back when he was still bodyguard to Princess Zelda, so this was the first time I met him. He was about...ten, I think? I'm not sure, but something about that little boy dressed in hunter leathers and carrying weapons almost too big for him was just...precious. I decided right then and there that he would be my little brother forever, and so I started calling him that. I think he felt sorry for me and played along with it, but I still feel happy when he calls me big sister."

The mental image of a tiny Sheik in oversized clothes and weapons was almost too cute for words, and Lor filed that away for things to embarrass him with later.

"The princess doesn't seem to like it when you do, though," he said, almost teasingly.

"I called him first, damn it!"

They laughed at that, and Lor sank further back in his comfortable chair, feeling very much at ease with this strange woman he'd only met the day before. Shared backgrounds, he supposed...but Ayla seemed to be one of those people who were difficult not to like.

Someone knocked on the door, spoiling their fun. Ayla cleared her throat and said, "Come in!"

Lor's eyes seemed to be drawn magnetically to the young man who entered the room, carrying a pad of what appeared to be sketches of different beasts...but that wasn't what had him staring, however. He appeared to be a little older than Lor, or somewhere close to the same age, perhaps. What fascinated him, though, was his hair. Snow-white tresses, long enough to reach his shoulders and to frame his face, with a handsome face and the greenest eyes Lor had ever seen in his life, hidden behind a pair of wire-thin spectacles...a lovely face, marred by the frown that grew when said lovely emerald greens landed on Lor.

"I...am interrupting," he said, his voice quiet and gruff, like he didn't use it very much.

"Not at all, Ard," Ayla replied. "What can I do for you?"

Ard's eyes never left Lor as he strode over to Ayla and handed her the pad. "Updating the encyclopaedias—need your input on some things."

"Got it," she said, looking over the sketches. "Oh, this lycan sketch is pretty damn good. Where did you get the reference?"

"Stories, descriptions," he offered by way of explanation. "Who are you?"

The question was directed at Lor, and he sat up straighter with a blush. Ard's stare was intense, but he couldn't for the life of him read what was going on behind them. "Er...Lor...mister...?"

Ard didn't introduce himself, and merely continued to look at him for a minute before grunting and leaving the solar, closing the door behind him. Only then did Lor feel the tension in his shoulders release, letting out a shuddering breath. "What...who was that?"

Ayla snickered. "That would be Ard, one of our researchers. A scholar, and resident grump. His brother, Erd, is far more jovial—almost annoyingly so. They're responsible for some of our more advanced weaponry and equipment—I daresay we'd be quite lost without them." She noticed his doubtful look, and smiled. "Don't worry, his bark...or lack thereof, is worse than his bite. He's just one of those quiet people who probably thinks that everyone should just communicate with meaningful looks or some rubbish like that."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Hah, hell no," she said. "Ard's like that with everyone he likes. Or feels neutrally about. If he _didn't_ like you, you'd know it." She looked at him closely. "You'll be in his good graces if you befriend his brother, which is easy enough. I'm sure you'll meet _him_ soon enough. Anyway, you promised me embarrassing stories about my little brother?"

"Ah, yes...well, let me see..."

As he told her the story of Sheik's first encounter with one of the Temple's employees and how flustered he'd been while trying to turn her down (much to Ayla's delight), he found his thoughts repeatedly returning to Ard, and that piercing gaze of his...

* * *

"I get the distinct feeling that the previous occupant of this space wasn't a proper physician," Kaura said, studying her new workspace. It was well-stocked, certainly, but the layout and locations of equipment was an inefficient mess. "Looks more like an army surgeon's been squatting in here."

Tao nodded vigorously, already having started to move things around to the places they _should_ be.

"Still, I suppose beggars can't be choosers—not that I begged or chose to practice medicine here in the first place—and we'll be leaving the place in good condition for the next unfortunate soul who's doomed to this place." She ran her fingers along the wooden examination table, which apparently doubled as the place for surgeries as well. "Hmph, a little primitive, don't you think?"

Tao signed at her with a sour expression.

"I'm not being ungrateful," she protested. "I was expecting to be back in the clinic by now, warm and comfortable...and yet here I am, in a draughty, crumbling pile of rocks on a mountain in the middle of bloody nowhere, apparently playing nurse to bunch of idiots whose idea of a hobby is to go poke a monster in its side and see how it reacts, and furthermore—!" she paused, noticing Tao's very amused (and unbearably smug) expression as he rearranged the surgical knives to her liking. "I'm allowed to vent," she said with a huff.

Tao nodded, signing his agreement.

"You're bloody enjoying this, aren't you?"

Another nod.

"You'll be the death of me, you know that?"

Yet another nod.

She sighed and joined her apprentice in making the infirmary a place where lives could actually be saved, wondering where she'd gone wrong in her life, eventually landing on the conclusion that it had started with Kaerwall, and cursing its existence.

* * *

In the laboratory, Ard continued to revise his notes on Bob's behaviour and comparing it the many field reports on lycanthrope hunts, trying to separate fact from fiction. It was no secret that some hunters liked to embellish their stories with improbable events and unheard-of acts by their prey.

He nearly snorted out loud when he came across a report where a hunter claimed to have seen a lycanthrope tear its own pelt off, revealing the human it had once been underneath, still alive and well. It hadn't stopped the hunter from putting a bullet in its head, of course, for good measure. Ard had dissected more than enough dead lycans to know such a thing was impossible. He made a note of the hunter's name (Arimand Nemos of the southern kingdoms, 34, deceased, lycanthrope bite to the jugular), intending to examine his reports more closely for similar lies.

He put that report away, ignoring his brother's cheerful humming several feet away as he worked on another of his restorative mixtures, reaching for another blank piece of paper to make notes on.

For the third time since he'd returned to the lab, his thoughts drifted to Ayla...or, more specifically, her guest. The boy had looked positively wretched, apparently still recovering from being interrogated by enemies of the hunters, and Ard had been anything but impressed by his appearance. And a slave, too...

Without noticing, he'd reached for a stick of charcoal, and when he looked down he realised he'd begun to sketch...something. A humanoid shape, sitting in a chair, with...a design on their cheek...

He gritted his teeth and crumpled up the paper, tossing it in the wastebasket next to the desk.

"Oi, go easy on that," Erd said, voice disapproving. "We're not made of paper—that's got to last us all winter."

"Then learn maths properly and stop wasting paper on your useless equations," Ard snarled back, focusing on his work. That had sounded harsher than he'd intended, and from the way Erd didn't respond, he knew he'd fucked up. Retrieving another report, he buried himself in work, determined to avoid the tattooed slave from now on.


	32. The Ones Left Behind

Nikal held her breath, willing her pulse to calm down as she waited. Her fingers clutched her dagger close to her chest, legs wrapped firmly around the wooden beam, abdominal muscles straining to keep her torso from dropping down, keeping her hidden. She was soaked in sweat, feet still burning from the running she'd done previously that evening, dodging assailants left and right. All she had to do was wait...just a little...longer...

Below, the footsteps approached. Heavy, wet boots on creaky wooden floors. The man was panting, out of both breath and shape, mumbling and cursing under his breath. He was bleeding, leaving little drops of crimson wherever he went, top hat long gone.

She tightened her stomach, curling even tighter in on herself, muscles burning with effort. Just a little longer...

The boots reached the stairs, creaking even louder, and she opened her eyes. Relaxing her muscles slowly, she allowed herself to look down, which, to her, was like looking up. An upside-down view of the apartment building presented itself to her, and the bleeding man was rapidly coming into view.

"Show yourself, rat!" he growled. "Might even consider doin' it quick!"

A lie if she ever heard one, and it only strengthened her resolve. She remembered the things she'd seen; the things she'd heard. The things the man below her had done. The hand clutching the dagger was nearly shaking—from the strain of keeping herself up here, or fear, or...?

There was no time to consider it, because he was suddenly directly beneath her. With no regard to the many instincts telling her how bad of an idea it was, she unclenched her legs, allowing herself to drop. She twisted in the air, nearly getting herself the right way round, and sank her dagger into the man's neck, right where shoulder and throat met. It was clumsy, and at an angle, but she could definitely feel something vital tearing...just as gravity tore her further down, causing her to lose her grip on the dagger, and hit the stairs painfully, world spinning around her as she rolled to the middle landing, knocking her head into the wall.

"Ah...you fucking...gah!"

Her vision swimming, she saw the man staggering and trying to pull her dagger out of his neck, but the handle was too coated in blood for him to get a grip, and his strength was failing him more and more by the second. He sank to his knees, and even if she wasn't sure if he could see her, she gave him a nasty grin.

"That was for Tinn, you shit!"

"Bitch..." he managed to croak out before he keeled forward, face slamming into the wooden steps before his body slid down towards her, stopping when his boot caught on the railing.

It was probably a bad idea—who knew how many more were out there?—but she allowed herself a few minutes to catch her breath, and for her head to stop spinning. Only when she felt confident she could stand without falling back over did she rise to her feet, stalking over to the now dead man on the stairs. She yanked her dagger out of his neck, wiping it off on his filthy coat and sheathing it in her belt.

She wrinkled her nose, realising her shirt and trousers were covered in spatters of the man's blood. "Had to bleed on me, didn't you?" she asked, aiming a kick at his boots. Making sure not to step in the rapidly spreading pool of blood, she descended the stairs.

Quietly leaving the old apartment building, she cast one last look back at the place where she'd spent so much time with Eren and the Boss, knowing she couldn't come back here anytime soon. The man in the top hat had been waiting for her here, which meant the bastards knew about it. It was a good thing she and Eren had emptied the Boss' office of his things and hidden them in various safe spaces all over the city the week before, just after Tinn's murder.

Sighing, she took a new route towards their new hiding spot, trying to make her directional changes as unpredictable and difficult to follow as possible. She was fairly certain no one was following her (had the man really been stupid enough to come alone?), and just to be certain she squeezed into a tight crawlspace between an inn and another apartment building, emerging in the next street over, forcing whoever was unlucky enough to be following her to take a minute-long detour at a full run, if they truly wanted to catch her.

She ducked into another ally, avoiding a constable blissfully oblivious to the war that was taking place in the streets.

Heh, war...

It wasn't as much a war as it was en extermination, and so far Nikal estimated at least half of the Boss' network had been picked off, either killed in public or in their homes. Quickly, efficiently. Tinn was but the first of a large number of victims to whoever was carrying out the "pest control", the identity of whom she and Eren had not yet managed to uncover.

The only thing they'd been able to deduce so far was that whoever wanted them dead was somewhere high up in the ranks, as they were able to convince the constables, guards, and watchmen to turn a blind eye to citizens having their blood spilled on the cobbles...even if they seemed hesitant about it. The death of Princess Zelda had clearly gained someone a great deal of power and influence...

She paused at a corner and observed the small, ramshackle building (more a pile of bricks, really) in a dead end street full of other abandoned houses scheduled for demolition. No lights in the windows, not a sign of life anywhere. Nevertheless...

She whistled. Three short and three long bursts of high-pitched sound. The agreed-upon signal.

There was no whistle in response. Instead, the front door, which was in danger of falling off its hinges at this point, opened a mere inch or two, the movement barely visible in the dark. It was enough for her, however, and she raced towards and through the door, hearing it closing firmly behind her.

"You're late," Eren hissed. "What happened?"

"Ran into an old friend," she said, patting her dagger's sheath. "Got one of the knobs who offed Tinn. Followed me to the office, laid a little trap for him."

They went into the basement, where a far sturdier door, with a wicked lock, kept them safe. There was also a ventilation channel that, in a pinch, could serve as an emergency exit, but neither of them wanted to give it a go before it was necessary. Eren turned up the flame of the solitary lantern there before locking the door, pausing when he noticed the blood on her clothes.

"Are you—?"

"His," she assured him. "And you?" she asked, looking him up and down. "You all right?"

"Yeah," he said, looking down. "Eileen isn't, though."

Nikal cursed inwardly. "Her, too?"

"Yeah...got her in the market. Made it look like a pickpocket got too eager." He shook his head. "Constables barely chased him."

"Bastards," she muttered, flopping down on the pile of filthy blankets that served as their bed. Next to it, a bundle of the Boss' pistols and smaller blades were hidden beneath an old sheet. They'd borrowed it, certain that Sheik wouldn't mind that they took a few precautions. Something wet and cold hit her forehead, and she sighed. "And now there's a leak."

Eren laid down next to her quietly, looking thoughtful. "Seen any of the ravens?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "They're dead or flown away. We're cut off."

"We could leave," he suggested.

"Won't even get out the gate," she shot him down. "They're looking for us. Probably paid the guards to keep an eye out."

Eren thought for a long moment. "We're fucked," he said.

"Looks like it," she agreed.

That was the long and short of it. They were trapped in Castle Town, with a group of cutthroats and murderers slowly closing in on them, eliminating the rest of the Boss' network of informers in the process, and they had absolutely nothing in terms of resources apart from a bundle of weapons and a handful of rupees, which was shrinking by the day as they spent them sparingly on essentials like...well, food and water. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before one of them was caught out in the open, or they were followed back to their hideout, or they ran out of money and began to starve...

"We can't just wait for that," she said, sitting up. Eren looked at her quizzically. "Wait for them to catch us, or worse," she clarified. "They've been hunting us for weeks now. I say we do a little hunting ourselves."

"Start killing them?" Eren said, sounding doubtful. "There's too many..."

"No, that'll never work. I say we start following them, find out who's behind it all. When the Boss gets back, maybe we'll have some useful information for him."

" _If_ he gets back," Eren said, sounding none-too-confident about that.

"He _will_ get back," she said firmly. "They wouldn't be so keen on killing us if he wasn't a threat anymore."

He didn't seem convinced, and frankly she wasn't a hundred percent certain herself, but they couldn't afford to lose hope. They might as well present themselves to their executioners right then and there, in that case. No, they had remain firm. They would find out who was behind the murders, who the slate-haired man worked for, present the information to the Boss, and then watch as he and Link exacted horrible revenge on them, both for the members of the network and Lor, who had done nothing to deserve the treatment he received.

All the while surviving the coming winter...

"We need to start preparing," she said, fetching the bundle of weapons and doing another inventory of what they had. Another drop of filthy water fell in her equally filthy hair, and she glared at the ceiling. "And find a new hideout."

"I think I know somewhere warm," Eren said, not looking happy. "Unpleasant, but warm."

"Show me."

* * *

"Please, sit."

The gathered council members sat as one, looking at him expectantly. There were more than a few empty chairs. The councillors who'd once occupied them had been the ones who...disagreed with his policies, and as a result Dehl had taken firm action. No deaths, of course, when they could be avoided. Some members had simply been convinced that staying at home and abstaining from participating in the democratic process was more preferable to, say, getting run over by a carriage, or made into fuel for the steam engines that were being produced for the future Hyrule Railway.

There were a couple of newer, younger faces that were now occupying the seats their fathers or mothers had once sat in, men and women who had been too principled to go along with the new (temporary of course, my word yes) regime. They had been quietly replaced by their heirs, who were far more interested in progress.

As Lord Camdessus made himself as comfortable as possible in his seat at the head of the table (which wasn't very, given the sharp-eyed looks he received from his guards whenever he looked at them), he surveyed the what was now, essentially, his government. Interim, of course, but still...

"Is everyone who has not abstained from participation in council matters present?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord," one of the younger members confirmed, looking eager. The man, probably five years his senior, had quickly disposed of his mother in what he imagined to be a bid for power, for the chance to directly influence Hyrule in a way the council hadn't since the days of Princess Zelda's father, King Rhys. He had no idea that a bloody _vampire_ was in charge of it all, that this council was as much a sham as Camdessus himself was.

"Good," he said, trying not to let his heavy thoughts weigh him down. It was all a matter of time, after all. Ascal would come, and he would tear Dehl and her people apart with his bare hands. Then everything could go back to the way they should be. "The search for the next heir to the throne of Hyrule continues. The finest genealogists in the kingdom are pouring over church records, family trees, and heraldry to determine which member of our noble houses shares the most blood with the late Princess Zelda, and is therefore the most suited to ascend the throne. So far, several promising leads have surfaced, but it will take time to ascertain their authenticity and validity."

"And your house, my lord?" asked a woman to his right. Lady Mer-something. Her name was one of those that had never stuck in his mind. "How close are your blood ties to the princess?"

"Quite remote, I'm afraid," he said with a properly saddened grin. "As far as the scholars are concerned, I share more blood with certain nobles in Lumina than I do with the royal family, so there will be no coronations for me in the future—at least not as a participant."

"A pity, I think Prince—and later King—Ayred I would have made a fine ruler," she said, giving him a deep look that he found himself alarmed by. She was at least thirty years older than him. "Not that you will find it difficult to strengthen your house through _other_ means, I'm sure."

Did she just _wink_ at him?

Good grief...

"You flatter me, my lady," he said. "Given how previous harvest balls have gone, I daresay I shall remain unattached for a while longer." He pointedly looked away from her and focused on the list of matters to discuss that night. It was long, and entirely pointless. Half the items had been settled by Dehl already, and the rest were inconsequential—busywork for those who could not be trusted not to look closer into the daily running of the kingdom and finding that something was very off. And even then, should they take a look, they would have a very sharp encounter with one of Dehl's men.

"Now," he said while clearing his throat, "the first matter that needs to be settled: The Indentured Servitude program. We have already entered into negotiations with local businessmen in Marona..."


	33. The Princess' Idea

He wasn't really sure what the contents of his bowl could be described as, but _slop_ was a strong contender for the title. It certainly made a sound very similar to it as it slowly dripped from his spoon while he stared at it, trying to identify the little bits and pieces that were visible in the grey-ish... _goop_.

Sheik looked up as a shadow fell over him, and smiled when he saw Link's tired face sliding into the seat opposite him, looking dubiously at his own bowl. He almost felt sorry for the Ordonian—if a session with Mana was this tiring, he wondered how Link would react to what Impa had planned for the rest of the afternoon.

_Though, that is tiring in an entirely different way,_ he thought, opening his mouth to make a comment to that effect, when a second person joined them.

Zelda looked as exhausted as Link, though probably for an entirely different reason, and Sheik felt a certain satisfaction at that. She deserved it, having lied as she did. He quenched the small voice that told him to feel guilty, that he was the cause of this.

_She brought this on herself,_ he told himself firmly. _Don't give in._

"I take it Mana gave you a thorough lesson in...everything?" he asked, looking pointedly at Link rather than her. Whether it was to teach her a further lesson or to silence his inner protest at the way he was treating her, he didn't know. She needed to learn, though, even if he didn't like the way it made him feel.

"You could say that," Link muttered. "How am I supposed to learn it all?"

Sheik briefly considered teasing him a little, but he figured that scaring Link on his first day as a recruit wasn't the best way to keep him around, and gave him a small smile instead.

"There won't be any quizzes or tests," he told the Hylian. "But it's important for hunters to understand the history and local culture of whatever region they are stationed in. That requires being able to do research, and _that_ is what Mana is teaching you. The same applies for studying the beasts you are hunting—it is unrealistic to expect any of us to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of them all."

"And the maths?" Link asked.

Sheik grimaced. "The airspeed velocity one?"

"Yup."

"Well, that just Mana being Mana—a pure sadist through and through."

"Eugh..." Link shovelled the slop into his mouth, and his eyes bulged as his senses were _assaulted_ by the unholy concoction that the hunter in charge of lunch had brewed up.

"I can help you with the maths, Link," Zelda said, her voice careful. "That is, if you want some more insight."

"I'd love that," Link told her with a grateful smile (hastily put there after swallowing the attempt at food), nodding at her. "I'm good with the basics, but the advanced stuff is a bit outside my reach."

Sheik focused on his lunch. Of course Zelda would offer her help. She was nice that way. Too nice. He was about halfway through his meal when Link cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"I'm not gonna demand to know whatever you two are arguing about, but I'm not really comfortable sitting here while it's still going on." He looked between them. "Whatever it is, it's too stupid to not try and resolve as quickly as possible. Just saying." With that, he shoved the last of the slop into his mouth, drained his mug of water, and rose to his feet. "Now, apparently I'm to report to the armoury...wherever that is."

"Through that door, up the stairs on the left, fifth door on the right, down the two sets of stairs, and the sixth door on the left," Sheik said, reciting the path from memory. "Beware the second set of stairs. They don't like knees."

Link grinned. "Sound advice, master hunter. I shall keep that in mind."

When he was gone, the princess and the Sheikah sat in silence for about a minute, until the princess took the initiative, clearing his throat quietly. "Your knee...it still pains you?"

"Every day when it is cold," Sheik said, keeping his tone neutral. He was still holding to his opinion that Zelda needed to learn a lesson, but he also knew that he couldn't give her the silent treatment. Not while they were stuck in the fortress; not while he was supposed to be a mature adult—a _hunter_. "Stretching helps."

"I see," she replied, picking at her food. She'd barely touched it so far. It was a far cry from the culinary offerings at the palace, that was for certain. Hell, this particular dish was worse than the things they ate on the road, for goodness' sake. "How long will Link be training before he's tested?" she asked.

"For as long as Impa deems it necessary," he replied. Goddesses, he wished he could walk away from the table. His stomach was slowly plunging downwards with discomfort. "Until Mana and whoever else is evaluating him is satisfied with his progression. He'll need to learn tracking, too, which is impossible in this weather. I can only make guesses, but...a month? Two?" He shrugged. "Depends on how quickly he makes progress, I suppose."

"Do you think he will make it?"

He nodded at that, before he could even think. "Yes—of that I am certain."

She brightened a little. "That is good to hear, your confidence."

"I wouldn't have brought him here, if I didn't believe in him," he muttered. " _We_ wouldn't have been here, otherwise."

She looked down, fingers intertwining on the table, nervously clenching and unclenching them. "I'm sorry."

He clenched his jaw. "You know, it's not the lying part that bothers me the most," he said. "It's...it's that you would risk your life to see what is probably the least glamorous way of living I can imagine. I suppose the stories you've heard made it sound...exciting, but...I just don't understand. Link and I literally dived into a _sewer_ in the pursuit of giant rats, blowing up a substantial part of Castle Town's infrastructure in the process. We had to bathe in the moat before we could go home. And that was a _good_ hunt." He sighed, scratching his neck and hoping she would understand.

"And what happened on the road...what if someone had recognised you? What if...what if _Ascal_ had seen who you were? Did you even _consider_ that something could happen? If you—if we—had died on the road, Hyrule would be left with no ruler, no princess—"

"Sera would have been ready to take my place," Zelda protested. "It's what she was trained to—"

"That's not the point!" he yelled, slamming his palm on the table.

The hall fell silent, the other diners pausing to look at the spectacle. Some looked away out of respect when they saw that the princess was involved. Others only seemed _more_ interested. Sheik glared at them until they returned to their food, and chatter slowly began to fill the silence again.

"My point," he continued, keeping his voice as even as possible, "is that you put yourself and your _kingdom_ , your _people_ , at risk, all so you could see a life you can never lead from our perspective. And _if_ something had happened, it would have been _my_ fault. The responsibility for the death of the last living member of the Royal Family of Hyrule, would have fallen on my shoulders. And..." Now it was _he_ who looked away. "And I would have lost my sister. _Again_."

He shoved his bowl away and stood, refusing to look at her. "I need you to understand that before I can forgive you." He ignored the surreptitious (or so they thought) looks he received from the other hunters. "Good afternoon, your grace."

He ignored the twinge in his chest as he left her alone, wondering if Link would be angry at him for this. He probably would be. Nevertheless...

He was supposed to present his design to one of the smiths later, but he felt the need to make a detour. Following a series of corridors, he reached the Pillar. It was massive, the centre-point of another large hall, once used by the monks as a prayer chamber. The significance of the gigantic stone-brick pillar, easily the size of a tower on its own, was lost to the ages. The hunters had found a different use for it.

Candles were lit all around it, casting light on the scratches there.

Names. Hundreds of them. Every fallen hunter, from the days of Iwan till now, scratched into the bricks. Immortalised in a way books, paper, and ink could not.

There was no rhyme or reason to the location of the names—the height or position mattered not. Every hunter, whether a Sheikah or not, was honoured the same way.

Sheik did not even need to search for them. he found the names immediately, close to the floor, right next to a candle of their own. Impa had lit it—her cane left distinctive marks in the flagstones. The candle was nearly new—she probably replaced them often.

_"Keep them in the light, and they will never be forgotten,"_ she had once said. Sheik disagreed with her on many things, but on this he concurred.

_She never liked the dark,_ he thought, tracing each of the names reverently with the tip of his index finger.

"Mother, Father," he said quietly, even though he was alone in the chamber. His voice still echoed—the oddly-curved ceiling ensured it. So the prayers could be amplified, he imagined. "I have returned. I apologise, I should have come earlier, but I had to clean out my cell and ensure that my...friends were accommodated."

He sighed.

"I know I say this every time, but...I'm sorry. I should have been stronger, smarter. I should have been everything I wasn't. What I have yet to become."

He looked at the name below those of his parents, drawing a shaky breath. No matter how much time passed, the sight of the names would always wake the memories.

The alley. The smell of blood. Children screaming. A voice pleading, another roaring.

"Sheik," he whispered, not trusting his voice not to crack. "I miss you...I miss you so much..."

* * *

Impa frowned at the book in front of her. Its pages were faded and torn, the ancient ink nearly illegible. The language used was old, a variation of the Sheikah tongue she had only encountered in theory, never truly spoken. It didn't really matter what the details said, though—all she cared about was the names.

_I really ought to have this copied before it falls apart,_ she thought, cursing under her breath when she tore page by turning it. _The Pillar will run out of space sooner or later..._

She'd poured over the heavy tome for the past hour or so, trying to find the name of the hunter who'd ambushed Sheik and the others on the road. Ascal was not a name she had ever heard before, so it was likely a pseudonym, but she had still tried to find it in the book. When that had failed, she'd begun to read each individual name from as far back as she could remember, trying to bring their faces to her mind's eye. It was surprisingly difficult, and she'd almost started to doubt her own memory.

There was something about this Ascal's description that rang a distant, far-off bell, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out where she remembered him from. There was one possibility, but the thought of it was too ludicrous to even entertain.

He might have been from a different continent altogether, which made things more complicated. She'd have to dispatch ravens to the other clans and workshops, asking for information about a man whose name was probably fake and a description that, admittedly, could be attributed to a great many individuals. What she wouldn't give for a proper photograph...

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts, and she quickly cleared away her research. "Enter," she said, raising an eyebrow when Zelda entered the study. "Princess," she said, rising despite Zelda's insistence that she didn't need to. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping we could discuss something," Zelda replied. "May I sit?"

"My study is yours," Impa replied, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. "I was told you and my nephew had a...conversation during lunch?"

"Sheik is still angry," Zelda admitted, looking miserable. "I don't blame him."

Impa sighed, wishing her foolish nephew wasn't so stubborn all the time. "He's similar to his mother in that regard—mostly explosive, but more than capable of smouldering for a while. He'll calm down, soon enough—"

"He was afraid to lose me," Zelda said, studying the top of Impa's desk closely. It was an old piece, gouged, dented, and worm-eaten from years and years of use. "He chastised me for risking the future of Hyrule and my people, but he...he was mostly afraid of losing me—I could see it in his eyes."

Impa closed her eyes, already feeling a headache developing. She didn't need their faces in her mind's eye on top of that. "I _really_ shouldn't have allowed the two of you to become so close," she muttered. "But _no_ , your father _insisted_..."

Zelda smiled slightly at that. "He always got his way when he was determined."

"And look where it got us—Sheik has halfway adopted you into the clan and is now putting you on the receiving end of the sort of temper-tantrum only a sibling can muster." She was grinning herself, which she hated. "But, I suppose that's the one thing that has me convinced the situation will resolve itself sooner or later—siblings will always fight, but they will also always make peace."

"I can only hope you're right," the princess said, rising to her feet and pacing around the room. "Perhaps he will when he learns of what I have to offer you." She gave Impa a smile. "I _was_ planning to discuss this next year, when I would have had more time to develop the idea, but I suppose I need to earn some goodwill—both with you, Sheik, and the hunters at large."

"Goodwill?" Impa said, confused. "I don't understand—"

"My presence here caught them all off-guard," Zelda continued, ignoring the subtle twitch beneath Impa's eye at being interrupted. It was usually a fear-inducing sight, but the more Zelda spoke the more excited she grew, and she wondered why she hadn't used this as her reason to come here in the first place. "They don't like me—especially the non-Sheikah hunters. It's an authority issue; a foreign member of royalty, coming to their home and taking up valuable space and eating their food and offering nothing in return."

Impa tried to protest, but the princess wouldn't let her. "Of course you won't have noticed; you're another authority figure. They respect you, but they don't tell you _everything_." She paused, giving Impa a sad grin. "I can only hope my idea will mitigate some of their distrust."

"And that idea is?" Impa asked, deciding not to argue on the previous issue. For all she knew, Zelda was right. It was difficult for a leader to hear the whispers on the lowest rung of the ladder, even if she tried to be as attentive as her mother had been, before she...

"I want to offer you a permanent location in Hyrule—not just a workshop in a random office building. A stronghold, where you can train more hunters and operate freely, without the risk of the authorities bearing down upon you." Zelda opened her arms wide. "I want to make Hyrule a sanctuary for the hunters—and the Sheikah. It is only fair, for all the services you have rendered unto us, unsung as they may be." She looked excitedly at Impa. "What do you say?"

Impa stared at her for a long, silent moment that had the princess' forehead break out in a slight sweat, nervously shaking. "And this location," Impa finally said, taking her time to form the words, "where would it be, exactly?"

"Anywhere you would deem suitable," Zelda said. "Though I already had a place in mind—do you remember Kakariko Village?"

"What remains of it, at least. A scattered group of wooden skeletons and the crumbling ruins of an old fort. Not exactly a stronghold anymore, I would say." She did not sound impressed.

"It would be restored, naturally," Zelda said, looking offended. "The finest builders and carpenters in Castle Town are only a week's travel by foot away. Or, if you do not find Kakariko to your liking, there are a number of other locations that could serve as a suitable base of operations. In any case, the geographical position is not important—what matters is that you would finally have a safe place to work, train, and live."

Impa opened her mouth to speak, but Zelda interrupted her once again.

"Not that I am saying the Studio is a bad place," she said hurriedly. "It has been your home for centuries after all, but surely it would be preferable to operate from an area that _doesn't_ seal itself off from the rest of the world for several months at a time every year? I mean, Hyrule has had its fair share of bad winters, but never so bad you could not travel, and it would be nice to have you closer to home and—"

"Zelda, you are rambling," Impa said, not unkindly. "It is most unseemly for a princess to babble."

"My apologies," the princess said, looking down. "I got excited."

"With good cause," Impa said with a nod. "It is...a most generous offer you are making us, unprepared and unrefined as it is." Zelda blushed at that. "And surely one I will take into consideration, not to mention discuss thoroughly with the other masters and clan heads. However, the suddenness and unpreparedness with which you describe the idea, I can only assume it is _not_ something you have discussed with your council or, indeed, representatives of your people yet? I am unsure of how the Hylians will react to their lands being flooded with heavily armed hunters...or blood-eyes."

Zelda's eyes widened at that, and this time it was Impa who interrupted her before she could speak.

"The Sheikah have been run out of Hyrule once before; the experience nearly broke us as a people. A great many of us were killed, slaughtered. We scattered ourselves all over the world to avoid being exterminated." She glanced down at her cane, not having realised how hard she was gripping it. "I, and the others, would need some form of guarantee that we would be left in peace, the monarch's decree of our safe passage, wherever we may go."

"You have it—"

"And the right to defend ourselves—with deadly force if necessary—from those who would defy that decree," she said firmly. "We were not even allowed to _carry_ weapons towards the end, before we were forced to flee. I refuse to let that happen again. Do you understand that, Princess?"

Impa was impressed by the regal look that came over the princess at that moment, looking every bit the monarch she was, despite her young age. There was so much of Rhys in her...

"I understand, and I give you my word not as a princess, but as your friend—your family—that the hunters and Sheikah will be safe in my kingdom." Zelda put a hand over her heart as she spoke. "I give you my most solemn vow—I would swear on the grave of my parents, if you would have me—"

"That will not be necessary," Impa said, standing up as well. "I believe you, Princess, and I thank you for the offer."

Zelda offered her a hand, which she shook. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Master Impa."

"I fear it will take some time to convince the others, however," Impa said. "Not to mention the planning, and logistics..."

"We have plenty of time to plan this winter, Impa," Zelda said, grinning happily now. "And before you say anything, leave the finances to me. I already have some ideas about that, but I will have to discuss them with the treasury first."

Impa sank back into her chair, her gloomy thoughts lifting from her shoulders. It was...a relief. A dream come true, for her people. The Sheikah had always been nomads by nature, but the lands that were now called Hyrule had always been the place to which they returned, where they gathered to hold festivals and meetings of the clan heads...to think they would be able to return once more, and establish a permanent foothold again... Images filled her mind, the sort she couldn't have imagined an hour before. A home...a proper one...

"Impa? Are you all right?" Zelda looked at her with concern. "Should I call Doctor Kaura?"

There seemed to be some sort of commotion in the halls—voices were shouting. Probably someone training. Hunters sparring sometimes spilled into the corridors. Impa didn't pay it much mind—if it was important, someone would come get her.

"No, no need for that," Impa said quickly, shaking her head. "Just...a little overwhelmed, I suppose." She paused, wondering if she should ask, hoping that it wasn't all a dream. "Are...you sure about this, Zelda? It will _not_ be a popular idea at first, if ever, to welcome not only the hunters, but the Sheikah, into your lands..."

"I don't care what will be popular or not," Zelda said defiantly. "My father always believed in doing the right thing, and I am sure he would have made the same offer if he still lived today. Had it not been for the council..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "Never mind all that—my offer stands, and I hope you will take it, not matter how much time you need to think about it, or discuss it with the others."

"Well, I suppose there is not much else I can do but thank you, and—"

The shouting grew louder, and then there was suddenly a violent knock on the door, a fist slamming repeatedly into the thick oak.

Impa reacted immediately, rising back to her feet and pulling Zelda back behind her desk, drawing a pistol and a dagger once the princess was safe. "What is it?!" she barked.

"Master," a voice she recognised on the other side of the door yelled, "Kafei's party has returned!"

Rolling her eyes, Impa relaxed. "Come in," she said, and a human hunter entered the room, looking nervous. "Now, care to explain why they didn't report in them...selves...?" she trailed off, seeing his expression. "What's wrong?"

"Elenwe's injured, master," he said. "Badly."

" _How_ badly?"

"Her arm..."

Impa paused, and then said, "Guess we'll have to call the doctor after all."


	34. The First Spar

Immediately after having her patient lifted onto the table, Kaura took a moment to study her arm. Or what was left of it, at any rate. It didn't take a highly trained physician to see the immediate problem. She grimaced at the sight. It was a miracle the Gerudo hunter had survived thus far.

"What happened?" Impa asked, directing the question to one of the hunters that had accompanied the unfortunate soul on the table.

The hunter, a young, dark-skinned Hylian woman around the same age as the patient, stood to attention. "We were clearing out the trolls, as per the job instructions, Master," she said. "The villagers were right—they've bred in large numbers." Her voice was calm, and her posture collected. If it weren't for the worried glances she kept throwing her injured companion, Kaura'd assume she didn't care at all. "An entire clan, thirteen strong."

Impa shook her head. "Impossible," she said. "There was only one breeding male left in the area—we scoured the hills for weeks!"

"Another could have wandered in from the surrounding mountains," the hunter said, not taking back her statement. "Either way, we counted thirteen: One alpha male, five betas, and seven females. Or...rather..."

"Yes?"

"We counted twelve, first." The hunter deflated at that, looking at the patient once more.

Kaura went about her preparations as Tao did his best to clean and sterilise the numerous other wounds the Gerudo on the table. Noticing that Princess Zelda had also joined them, hovering uncertainly in the background, Kaura decided to recruit her. "Make yourself useful, girl," she barked at the princess, who jumped to attention immediately. "Sterilise those!"

Impa ignored the events transpiring around her, attention focused solely on the hunter giving the report. "I take it the thirteenth one is responsible for Elenwe's condition?"

"Yes," the hunter confirmed. "It was...waiting for us. In the cave. Like it knew we were coming. It waited until we were nearly finished, and came hurtling out of the dark. We didn't even realise it until it was too late, and Elenwe...she..." Anguish crossed her face, and Impa's expression softened slightly.

"We can discuss this in more detail later. Go to Kafei, and—"

"No," the hunter said. "I want to help." She turned to Kaura, drawing herself to her full height, squaring her shoulders. An impressive specimen, in Kaura's opinion. Tall, and with a great deal more muscle mass than her fellow Hylian women usually had. This one was a worker, a fighter. "Doctor...?" she said, faltering.

"Kaura," she replied, her introduction overlooked earlier. "And you are?"

"Tira," the hunter replied. "Tira Siress."

 _A noble, then,_ Kaura thought. _Interesting._

"You can help the girl with the equipment," she said, pointing at Zelda, who was busy cleaning the various knives and saws with the strongest alcoholic solution the infirmary had to offer (which Kaura had a feeling the previous medic had been using as an anaesthetic in addition to its cleaning properties). "I need it all as clean as possible. Wash your own hands first."

"Yes, doctor," Tira said, immediately beginning her task.

"Tao, we ready to begin?"

 **One more minute,** he signed back, quickly wrapping a nasty cut on the Gerudo's shoulder with bandages.

"I'll be counting the seconds," Kaura replied, noticing that her personal space was being encroached upon by the master hunter, who was staring critically down at the mess of an appendage that had once been an arm.

"Can you save it?" Impa asked, likely aware of what the answer would be.

Kaura had never been one for false hope. "No," she said. "Even if I could patch the veins and muscles back together, the bones are completely destroyed. No amount of reconstruction can fix that. Infection's certainly going to be a problem, with or without it. It's a wonder she hasn't bled out already, in fact."

It wasn't a pretty sight. The Gerudo's right arm had been completely flattened, presumably by the aforementioned troll. The bones, splintered and fractured, had torn through the skin and muscle tissues, ruining the structure of the limb completely. The hand still clung on by a single tendon, fingers clenched around the handle of a broken sword. Had they been unable to pry it from its hold? Kaura had no idea how far up the internal damage went, but she suspected it didn't end at the elbow.

"Will she live?" Impa asked.

"Possibly, with luck and careful supervision, though I do not rate her chances high," Kaura said, turning to look at the master hunter. "I need your consent to begin the amputation."

"You have it," Impa said immediately. "Please, do what you can to save her."

"I will," Kaura promised before turning to Tao. "Right, time's up. Get me a tourniquet, the bone saw and the sharpest scalpel we have."

"Is there anything we can do?" Tira asked, nodding to Zelda as well. She hadn't recognised her princess, it seemed.

"There is," Kaura said. "Come here and hold her down, both of you. She's out of it now, but what I'm about to do would wake the dead." She paused. "And bring the booze. She's going to need it."

When everyone was in position and Tao stood by with the necessary tools, she took a deep breath, went through her mental plan for the surgery...and began her grisly work.

* * *

"Dodge! Dodge! You only parry when you're out of all other options!"

Link's breath came in short gasps and grunts, his face drenched in sweat. His sword arm burned with exertion, and he was certain the soles of his feet were about to catch fire in his boots. His opponent was just a blur in front of him, dodging his every swing and rewarding him with retaliatory swipes and smacks with the flat of their blade. The last one had hit his cheek, and it _still_ stung.

"Come on! Keep moving! You stand still, you die!"

He tried to do just that, but the afternoon's exertions were catching up with him. His legs refused to cooperate, their movements slow and thunderous instead of quick and light. He felt more like a clumsy drunk wandering home from a night at the tavern than a fleet-footed warrior.

The blur moved and aimed a poorly disguised overhead blow at him, which he was barely able to block with his sword. He couldn't hold the attack's momentum at bay, however, and the world exploded into stars as the opponent's weapon—along with his own—slammed into his head and knocked him flat on his back.

"Ayla, enough!"

"Aw, I was just getting started!"

Trying to blink the world back into focus, Link saw the blur sheathe their wooden scimitar and crouch at his side, Ayla's slowly sharpening face peering down at him with slight worry.

"You all right, farmboy?" she asked, reaching out to touch his head. He hissed at the sharp stinging sensation that radiated from the spot where she'd struck him. "Oooh, that's going to leave a bump, no mistake about it," she said. "Oi, you hear me?"

"I want to go home," Link muttered, touching the spot as well, nearly surprised at finding not a trace of blood. It certainly _felt_ like his skull had been split open.

Ayla laughed. "Ah, sorry to be the bearer of bad news—this _is_ your home now, recruit."

He groaned and tried to sit up, succeeding on his second try with Ayla's help. The world was tilting a little, but it was quickly coming into proper focus. The Gerudo pulled him to his feet, and he reluctantly turned his attention to the Sheikah who'd been yelling instructions at him for the past two hours. He was standing impassively near the half-circle of cushions that served as seats for the spectators to training sessions, one of which Lor was currently occupying—and looking worried on.

"Five minutes, and then we start again," the instructor said, looking anything but thrilled at the idea.

"Go easy on him, Anrym, it's his first day," Ayla said with a dismissive wave. "Ten minutes, at the least."

Anrym was not impressed with her plea. "Going easy on him will get him killed," he said. "I train _hunters_ , not _prey_. Five minutes, and then we start over. Go with a short sword this time—the scimitar is difficult to fight against for amateurs."

"Then why'd you have me go with that first?"

"I wanted to see how he'd handle it."

With that, Anrym stalked over to the impressive rack of training weapons that lined an entire wall of the sparring room, surveying them with a contemplative look on his face.

"Forgive Rym," Ayla said as she helped Link over to one of the cushions and had him sit down on one. "He's a bit of an arse sometimes, but he has personally trained just about every hunter to pass through this place for the past fifteen years. If anyone can teach you to fight like one of us, it's him."

"You okay?" Lor asked, gently touching Link's shoulder. "That last hit looked pretty nasty." He shot Ayla an ugly look at that, which she shrugged off.

"As far as training accidents go, he got off lightly," she said in her defence.

"At least it wasn't a real scimitar," Link said, glaring at the wooden swords lying on the carpet. "Had it been steel, it'd have cleaved my head in two."

"Yeah, you won't be touching real steel until Anrym feels you're ready for it, and even then it won't be sharp," Ayla said. "Hunters don't train with edged blades—it's bad luck. We only bring proper weapons to bear when we intend to use them."

"I already know how to fight, though," Link protested. "I've fought bandits since I was a boy!"

"You fight like a soldier," Anrym said, his voice a great deal softer than before. The sacks of straw nailed to every surface of the sparring room muffled all sounds quite well. It was both a necessity and a courtesy—it protected the fighters' hearing, and didn't bother those in the surrounding chambers. "Soldiers don't make good hunters—they rely too much on known patterns and movements, made to fight other soldiers. Beasts are unpredictable and vicious, and so a hunter must be as well." He turned toward and stalked towards Link, holding a pair of identical short swords in his hands. "That's what I intend to do while you're here—beat that useless style out of you. Here." He held the wooden swords out to the both of them. "Don't focus too much on striking for now—I want to see your footwork."

Link and Ayla took up positions once more, though Link had a feeling he wasn't going to be learning much in the next hour or so. His body was simply too drained. Lor gave a small cheer for him, though, which certainly raised his spirits a bit.

Before they could begin, however, the door to the sparring room was opened. Mana looked concerned as she quickly marched inside. "Anrym," she said, "Kafei, Elenwe, and Tira have returned."

Anrym raised an eyebrow at her (did _all_ Sheikah practice that look, or was it simply a quirk they all happened to share?). "And?" he asked. "I assume you did not interrupt me just to bring that message."

"The hunt didn't go as planned," she said simply. "Elenwe has been injured, badly. I believe you would want to know _that_."

Anrym had gone stiff at the mention of this Elenwe's name, as had Ayla. "How badly?" the Gerudo demanded. "Will she live?"

"I do not know the details," Mana admitted, looking troubled. "But from what I have learned, her chances are...small."

Anrym's fists were clenched as he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "This session is over," he said shortly, nodding to Link. "Well done, for now. We will reconvene after lunch tomorrow." With that, he left the room with Mana, Ayla hot on their heels after throwing an apologetic look at the two of them.

After a moment of confused silence, Link replaced the practice weapons on the rack and took a seat next to Lor. "So...I guess I'm pretty useless as a hunter so far," he said with a chuckle. His tone was light, but based on his performance with Mana in the morning and Anrym in the afternoon...he did not feel good about his chances.

"Oh, stop that," Lor said sharply, smacking his shoulder. "If you were hopeless, they wouldn't go through the trouble of trying to correct you."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Lor said, nodding. "It's like this with any organisation, I think. They've got masters of the trade who'll judge you and consider you. Mana might take some time, but Anrym...he strikes me as someone who'll see right away whether or not you've got what it takes. He won't be _nice_ about it, but..." He shrugged. "It's better than being coddled, isn't it?"

"I dunno," Link said. "I like being coddled sometimes."

"I'm sure Sheik would be happy to provide some of _that_ later," Lor said, turning to face Link and wiggling his eyebrows. "Just say that you've got some aches and pains that his _magic_ Sheikah fingers can alleviate."

The thought of Sheik's hands roaming all over him and soothing his sore muscles was indeed a tempting thought, and Link wondered just how he could convince the Sheikah to do such a thing.

"And then, when you're like putty in his hands, he will take out his—"

"And you spoiled it," Link said with a groan.

Lor pouted. "Oh, come on, how long have you two been together now? Sooner or later, one of you'll have to take the first step."

"We're still not entirely sure _what_ this thing we've got is," Link protested. "It's too early for...for _that_!"

"No such thing, in my book," Lor said, grinning widely for a moment, but then it faltered. "By the way...do you know _how_...it works?" He didn't need a verbal answer, as Link's blushing face spoke more than a thousand words. "I see—so you've a blank slate, so to speak?"

"Are you _trying_ to embarrass me?" Link managed to choke out, his eyes drawn to the stone floor—he certainly couldn't meet Lor's at the moment.

"Embarrass you?" Lor asked. "Far from it, I just want everything to...shall we say...go your way when whatever the two of you have comes to a head...heh, head..." He chuckled at that, snorting when Link didn't really understand it. "I mean, you want it to be enjoyable for the both of you, right?"

"Well...yeah, but I don't know if we—"Link began, convinced his face would catch fire at any moment.

"Nevertheless, it's important to be prepared," Lor declared with the authority of a schoolmaster. "Now, from the very start, it is important to remember the most sensitive bits..."

For the next half hour, Link cursed Anrym and his own inability to move as Lor revealed a world far more complex than he'd imagined.

* * *

Ascal grimaced when the metal door refused to budge, casting an embarrassed glance towards Art, who was looking less than impressed (for all the face he could see within the multiple layers of fabric and fur that his stalwart companion had wrapped himself up in). He gave it another push, only to be rewarded with less movement than that of a glacier.

 _If only I hadn't gotten shot in the head,_ he lamented. _This'd be sorted in a second._

"Er, Art, my fine fellow," he said loudly, his voice barely audible over the howling of the winds around them. "Be a good lad and give it a go?"

To his credit, Art did just that. His movements were stiff and less than fluid, but desperation aided him and allowed him the extra strength required to break the ice in the door's hinges, forcing it open as he tumbled over the high threshold, landing painfully on the floor within.

Ascal strode inside and managed to close the door behind them, and then helped Art up, directing him towards a rickety chair by the stove.

They were lucky; the key had still worked. He supposed the hunters never expected anyone but them to use their caches, but after everything that had happened...well, he was almost _disappointed_ they'd never even considered to have the locks changed. Then again, that'd require changing the lock of every single cache and distributing new keys to every hunter on the continent, and that required far too much time, effort, and money.

As Art shivered in his chair, Ascal quickly collected some perfectly dry firewood from the crate by the door (still exactly as he remembered it) and lit the stove, putting a kettle on to boil for good measure.

The storm had hit a few hours before they'd reached the pass, and forced them to seek shelter in a ruined farmhouse close to the entrance to the pass. It hadn't worked very well, and despite Art's protests, they'd set out to find somewhere better—like the hunter cache they were currently occupying.

It was one of the smaller ones—consisting of one big room with a stove in one corner and some crates of food, and a smaller side chamber that was kept firmly locked. Rarely visited, this was meant for emergencies. Based on the build-up of ice and rust in the door's hinges, it hadn't been visited in years—it might even have been forgotten. It wouldn't surprise him—a fire had destroyed a great deal of the older records a few years before he'd...he'd...

Nestled off the beaten path and in an area where no major animals' paths went by, it was a difficult cache to find unless you knew exactly where it was, was his point.

Soon, the stove was warming up the whole cave, and Art's shivering was lessening by the minute.

"How are you feeling?" Ascal asked him, crouching by his seat.

"Freezing," Art grunted. "To the bone."

"I can only imagine," Ascal said, nodding. "You'll be happy to know we'll be staying here for a while, so you can make yourself comfortable." He straightened up and headed for the door. "I'll be back soon."

"Where're you going, boss?"

"I need to do some reconnaissance," he explained. "It's been quite some time since I was here last, and I would very much like to see how much has changed."

"The storm—"Art began, but Ascal waved him off.

"Do not worry," he said. "In case you haven't noticed, the cold doesn't bother me very much. If anything, it makes it easier to slip by without being seen. It is a...perk of my condition, you could say. Now, be a good boy and get warm. There's tea in my pack. I'll be back soon."

He locked the door behind him, just to be sure. He doubted anyone would be stupid enough to brave this storm to check on an unused cache, but one could never be too careful. Snow flurried about him, the wind trying to toss him this way and that, coat and hood fluttering wildly. It was no weather for a man to be out.

For a vampire, however...


	35. The Cousin

Sheik made his final adjustment to the formula on the page, double-checking the maths by comparing it to his notes, replaced his pen in its case, and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. It had taken him most of the day, but he had, at last, finished the design. All he had to do now was to get one of the smiths to forge it (which would be a challenge in itself, given the sheer amount of work they had to do), and he'd make life for many hunters a lot easier.

Wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand (realising too late the skin was splotched with ink, probably smearing it all over his face), he took a breath and removed the wax plugs in his ears. The aural assault was instant, and he was momentarily overcome by the sounds of the workshop. Hammers on anvils, small explosions from powder experiments, voices shouting to each other from three alcoves over...the wonderful din of the Studio at full activity.

He glanced at the watch on his desk, surprised to find it was past suppertime by twenty minutes. Had he really been that engrossed in his work? Why hadn't anyone told him? Then again, none of the others in the workshop were trampling their way to the dining hall, so perhaps it was delayed? Or had they introduced a new schedule since his last visit?

On further thought, he wasn't particularly hungry to begin with, so perhaps missing supper (whenever that was) wasn't such a major loss after all.

_Might as well be productive instead,_ he thought as he adjusted his clothing and donned his coat before emerging from the cranny and heading straight for the far end of the workshop, where three gigantic chimneys occupied most of the wall.

A relatively recent addition to the old fortress, they were absolutely necessary to keep the smoke and gases from the three smithies at their base from flooding into the halls and choking their occupants. At any time, at least one of the multiple forges was kept alive and burning, one smith tending to it, in case of an emergency. Usually, during regular hours, two forges were active and in use. Due to the sudden flooding of hunters now that it was winter, the smiths found themselves having to keep all three of the forges alive to be able to keep up with the amount of work that was required.

Sheik climbed the raised dais on which the forges stood, regretting his decision to take out his ear plugs the closer he got to them. Every clang of a hammer on an anvil sent shocks through his teeth, eyelids involuntarily narrowing in response to the powerful impacts. Worse than the noise, however, was the heat. Getting this close to the forges was like walking into a wall of sheer heat, like stepping into a house that was on fire. He could already feel sweat trickling down his back. It was no wonder the smiths and their assistants mostly wore their leather aprons, gloves, and steep-tipped boots...and little else. The lack of clothing did not help with the smell, however, and Sheik could sense the hint of sweat lingering just beneath that of burning coal and wood, gunpowder, and molten steel and iron.

Two of the smiths were busy with work, their helpers swarming around them like busy little bees, responding to their bellowed commands as quick as their feet would let them. Working with more specialised alloys required a lot of work, concentration, and skill. Sheik knew he'd never be allowed _near_ the more delicate projects, and the assistants were usually accomplished smiths themselves...but _the_ smiths were the _masters_ of the craft.

One smith, however, was taking a break, and Sheik smiled when he saw it was the one he'd hoped for. His back was turned to him, but the sheer size of him was unmistakeable...not to mention that backside. The apron did _not_ cover his arse. Nothing but muscle, a hunter with that sort of profile would scare the monsters into submission with his sheer presence—it was almost a shame he'd felt drawn to the forge rather than the sword...but then they'd be deprived of one of the finest gunsmiths in the world, which would have dealt the hunters a significant blow on its own. Not that the man was incapable of hunting, however, even if his methods were a little...inelegant. His war hammer, a gigantic piece of cast-iron in the shape of a snarling wolf's head, was always kept within arms-reach—at the moment it was leaning against one of the unused anvils.

"Hafthor!" Sheik yelled, his voice nearly lost in the noise. "Have you got a moment?!"

Hafthor turned around, crimson eyes landing on Sheik immediately. A broad smile spread on his face, the skin around his wrinkling slightly. A scar running from the right corner of his mouth to his ear made the smile slightly crooked, but there was nothing but joy in the expression itself. He'd tried to grow a beard once to cover it up (like so many others in his trade), but it came out all patchy...plus, Reno had thrown a fit. Hafthor stepped forward and, without warning, drew Sheik into a tight, bone-crushing hug.

"Little Sheik!" the massive Sheikah exclaimed, lifting Sheik clean off the ground. "Welcome home!"

Usually, Sheik would bristle at a nickname like that, but then _everyone_ was little compared to Hafthor, so he let it slide. Plus, he wasn't sure if he wanted to pick a fight with a man who could crush him into a fine powder with but a little application of his ample strength.

"Thanks, Haf," Sheik said, barely able to breathe, tapping the man's back. "Good to be back."

Hafthor put him back on the ground, and Sheik had to lean slightly against an anvil as he regained his breath. "I heard you'd returned, but the work's been piling up and I didn't have any time to greet you yesterday," Hafthor explained sheepishly.

"Oh, no need to feel bad, Haf," Sheik said, smiling. "I know things are a little crazy around here at the onset of winter." He shook his head. "And now _I_ feel bad, because I bring even more work for you." He cast a surreptitious glance at a strong lockbox on a workbench. Fireproof, it contained all the designs and work orders from the other hunters. Around here, unless it was an emergency, it was first-come-first-serve.

Surprisingly, instead of directing Sheik to the box, Hafthor took the paper from him and studied it with the intensity only a craftsman like him could achieve. His jaw clenched and move from side to side, which meant he was thinking, presumably already thinking of how to bring Sheik's design into the real world.

"Hm," his voice rumbled, "silver grooves, eh?"

"It will lighten the weapon considerably," Sheik said, excited and hopeful that Hafthor would find it interesting enough to move it ahead in the queue. "And before you say anything, yes, I know it is far from an original idea, but the past executions have been...lacking in results. Based on the latest research conducted by the twins, however, I believe this one will truly work. After all, it's not the cutting edge that needs to be silver—we just need a way to—"

"—introduce it to the beasts' blood stream," Hafthor finished for him, nodding. "I've read the papers, and I agree with you. This design has far more promise than any other I've seen...but it will be far from perfect—even with a proper steel edge, the sword will still grow dull easily, and suffer damage from poorly aimed blows."

"There's nothing to be done about the edge," Sheik said with a nod, "that will simply require the hunter to carry a sharpening stone with them, which we already do as a rule. Misaimed blows...well, in most cases it's the _weight_ of the sword that causes the bad aim in the first place—with the blade being mostly steel, weight will not be a problem. Not compared to silver, at least."

Hafthor seemed to be giving the idea a lot more consideration than Sheik had expected. He felt his chest flutter slightly with anticipation. If his idea could be put into production...

"This could save lives," Hafthor declared. "With a proper mould and a steady supply of the materials, could even be put into mass production."

"It will require rigorous testing, of course," Sheik said. "And I have another idea for the silver itself—perhaps we don't need it to be pure. A less dense alloy could be enough, lightening the blade even further. I'll talk to the twins about that, though. For now, I simply need a prototype, and—"

"Say no more," Hafthor said, grinning crookedly. "Give me a couple of days to figure it out, and I'll probably have one ready for you in a few weeks."

"Already?" Sheik asked, blinking. "Aren't there more pressing work orders?"

"None that can have as much of an impact on our trade as this," the smith said, waving Sheik's design about. "The others can focus on the lesser orders—I'll devote my time to this for now."

This had gone much better than Sheik could have hoped, and he found a wide grin splitting his face in half. "Thanks, Haf, I don't know how I can—"

"Repay me by introducing me to your recruit—and the others you brought here," Hafthor said, winking at him. "They seem an interesting bunch. Always wanted to meet a princess, too. Preferably before Reno gets back—you know how he gets..."

A momentary look of panic spread on Hafthor's face, which almost made Sheik laugh. Here was a man who'd faced down a troll with nothing but a sledgehammer and laughter and walked away with nary a wound, terrified at the prospect of a jealous lover.

"I'll see to it, don't worry," Sheik assured him. "Reno out on patrol, I take it?"

"Yeah, due back in a week if the storm passes by tomorrow or the day after. Probably stuck in one of the caves right now. He won't be happy. I've been saying prayers to Alva's sanity ever since the blizzard hit."

Sheik made a note to do the same. Being stuck in a small, tight space with Reno for days on end was not a tempting prospect. "I fear she will need some time on her own when they get back," he said gravely.

"I'm thinking she'll isolate herself for the rest of the winter," Hafthor said with a chuckle. "That, or swear of hunting altogether and departing for the Ashlands."

They shared a laugh at the guaranteed misery Alva was in, and Sheik was about to ask what was new around the fortress when Mana suddenly appeared beside him. Even without the din of the workshops around them, she usually found a way to sneak up on him, to his annoyance.

"Your presence is required in the dining hall, child," she said simply, grabbing his arm and dragging him off the dais, barely giving Hafthor a half-nod as a greeting _and_ parting gesture.

Sheik didn't struggle, and Hafthor didn't react. When Mana acted like this, it was important. "What's happened?" Sheik asked. "Has something happened to Link?"

"Your cousin has returned from a troll hunt," Mana explained quickly. "Elenwe has been injured—badly—and Kafei is currently trying to drink himself to death. I need you to stop him before he hurts himself or someone else." She let go of his arm, trusting him to follow her on his own.

"How bad is she hurt?" Sheik asked, his stomach plummeting. He didn't know the Terminan Gerudo as well as he knew Ayla, but she too had been a reassuring presence in his life for the past decade. The thought of her...no, too early for such thoughts.

"From what I understand, it's a miracle she made it here to be treated," Mana said simply. She was not one to speculate. "But that is not your main concern at the moment. Focus on Kafei, and make sure he's still there to greet her if she wakes up."

She did not accompany him into the dining hall, leaving him in front of the doors as she headed up the stairs on the right, heading for the infirmary. The silence in the entrance hall was a blessed one after the noise of the workshop...but even here he could hear a familiar voice shouting behind the doors, and glass breaking. Sheik gulped, having noticed Mana's use of the word _if_.

Whatever he was expecting on the other side of the door, the sight of his cousin standing on a long table, a pistol in one hand and a carafe of wine in the other was...well, it wasn't the _first_ time he'd seen something like this involving Kafei. The long, loose, and extremely _purple_ _hair_ , however, was new. As was the language he was currently—or so Sheik assumed—cursing in.

A couple of hunters were standing on either side of the table, trying to calm him down, but he simply continued shouting loudly in...something that sounded like one of the northern languages, but Sheik couldn't identify which. They spotted Sheik, and wordlessly implored him to take over, which he did.

"Leave us alone, will you?" he asked, which they quickly agreed to, slamming the doors shut behind them.

Exactly how drunk his cousin was, Sheik didn't know, but he didn't even seem to notice that his handlers had left, and that they were now alone in the large dining hall, his voice reverberating off the stone walls in a most unpleasant way. Kafei's voice had never been one for singing, and certainly not one for a choir.

"Kafei," Sheik said in a level voice. He doubted his cousin was drunk enough to fire, but the gun being waggled about was making him a little nervous. "Remember what Impa said about dancing on the table?"

His cousin turned on his heels, facing him with a glare.

"I'll dance wherever I like!" he declared.

"Even when she makes you walk over hot coals for hours on end?"

Whether it was some distant memory of the threat triggering or just Sheik's calm voice, Kafei actually did climb down from the table top, choosing instead to pace across the flagstones, taking deep draughts of the wine whenever he stopped moving. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than stumbling around on the table and accidentally having the pistol going off if he tripped and fell.

"I'd welcome you back, cuz," Kafei said, his words slurring a little, "but I'm a bit prec...preucco...prepi...busy, right now!"

"I can see that," Sheik said with a nod, happy Kafei was lucid enough to recognise him, at least. "But perhaps you'd be more comfortable sitting down and dr...doing that."

"What, gonna stop me from drinkin'?!" Kafei demanded, putting the barrel of the gun against his temple. "Take the wine, and I'll blow my brains out!"

Sheik shook his head. "I won't take your wine, I promise. Just...sit down and have a chat with me. We've a lot to catch up on."

He neglected to mention to Kafei that he hadn't cocked the pistol, thanking the gods for his cousin being a lightweight and _very_ unobservant drunk. He pointed to the seat on the other side of the table from the one he sank into. Unhappily, Kafei sat as well, keeping a protective hand around the carafe. At least he put the pistol on the table, which Sheik quickly took...only to find it wasn't even loaded.

_Add careless and ridiculously lucky to the drunk list,_ he thought, smiling at his cousin while making a note to have Impa restrict his access to booze of any kind for the immediate future.

"I have to say, I didn't expect the purple," he said, gesturing to Kafei's tresses, which were framing his unfocused eyes and saggy expression. "You lose a bet or something?"

"No," Kafei said immediately, eyes flitting about. "Yes," he admitted. "Claimed I could...er...do _something_...for a long time, and...well..."

"Could be worse," Sheik said with a chuckle. "Could have been pink."

"E _hates_ pink, and..." he trailed off, his face turning into pure misery, and he took another deep drink of wine. "Gods...she's dying up there...an' it's _my_ fault..."

"It wasn't your fault—"Sheik began, but Kafei cut him off with a snarl.

"Were you there?! No, you weren't, so how could you possibly know it wasn't?! I led them into that cave, I was supposed to stay in control, _I_ was the one who declared the hunt over! I was the one who...who failed...to keep an eye out..." he trailed off, staring down at the table top, one hand still grasping the wine and the other gripping something only he could see. His gun? His sword? Elenwe's hand?

"I'm sorry, Kafei," Sheik muttered. "I can't imagine what it's like, your lover injured..."

"Not lover," Kafei said, more softly. "Not anymore."

Sheik blinked. That was unexpected. "You...you're not together anymore?"

"Oh, we are," the elder Sheikah said. "Just...differently." He pulled the hair on the left side of his face back, revealing his pointed ear. A ring with a small, red stone, the significance of which was not lost on Sheik, dangled from it.

"I wasn't told you'd married," Sheik said, giving him a smile. "Congratulations. Afraid I don't have any gifts with me, but..."

"Happened quickly, spur of the moment kind of thing," Kafei said, sounding much calmer. Happy memories always helped, Sheik knew, especially when they distracted Kafei from the grievous matter of his wife's injury. "She's the one who asked. Didn't dare say no...not that I would, of course..." He focused on his younger cousin then, narrowing his eyes. "When did you get here, anyway? Didn't know you were comin'."

"Arrived yesterday, actually. Spur of the moment kind of thing, too," Sheik said with a shrug. "Brought in a new recruit...got a little homesick, to be honest."

Kafei snorted. "Huh, and that princess of yours allowed it?"

He said it with such venom, but Sheik knew there was more than a hint of curiosity behind it as well. A strange and oxymoronic person, was Kafei.

"I don't answer to Zelda anymore," Sheik said firmly. "Besides, we reached a...compromise."

"Compro-mise?" Kafei asked, drawing out the word.

"I'll tell you about it when you sober up," Sheik said. "It's a long story."

"Could use one o'those right about now. To distract me from...from...E...gods..."

"It started with a lycanthrope," Sheik said hurriedly, hoping to stave off more misery for Kafei. "In the middle of Castle Town. I needed some assistance, and I decided to hire outside help..."

* * *

By the time Tira entered the hall, Kafei had nodded off. He'd dozed off about halfway into Sheik's story, but he'd continued talking anyway, taking it as an opportunity to arrange the memories of their trip to the Studio properly.

"Had a feeling I'd find him here...like _that_ ," Tira said with a note of disapproval. Her gaze softened when her eyes landed on Sheik, nodding a little stiffly. "Been a while, Sheik." She slid into the seat beside him, eyeing the pistol warily.

"Good to see you, Tira," Sheik replied. He didn't know her very well—she'd only been a hunter for a couple of years at this point, but he'd enjoyed what limited amount of interaction they'd had with each other so far. She was very...proper. Professional. Presumably a former soldier, or something like it. She had never spoken of her past before she came into their fold. "It's not loaded," he said, nodding at the pistol. "Idiot hadn't even cocked it." He paused, unsure of how to ask it, but based on her expression... "How is Elenwe?"

Tira sighed. "She's alive...for now. Couldn't save her arm, had to take it off just above the elbow. The doctor...Kaura, is it? She's not sure if she'll make it through the night. She's lost a lot of blood, and there's already an infection she has to fight off. The odds aren't good, she said, but she'd also do everything in her power to keep E around, so...fingers crossed?" She picked up the carafe Kafei had been drinking from, wrinkled her nose at the smell of it, and downed a huge gulp. "Eugh, plonk...but it gets the job done, I guess."

Kafei snored loudly, and she snorted in response.

"He never was a graceful sleeper," Sheik said, chuckling.

"I don't know how she stands it, to be honest," Tira said. "A few weeks with him in a tent...gods, I was ready to strangle him."

"So was I, a couple of times," Sheik said.

"Should have done us all a favour."

They were quiet for a few minutes, enjoying a companionable silence that was only interrupted by Kafei's nocturnal mating calls. Outside, the wind was still howling.

"Storm's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon," Sheik noted, taking a drink from the carafe himself. Elenwe was right, it was utter plonk. Kafei had never been discerning in his tastes for alcohol. "How'd you make it here?"

"Got through the pass just before the snow started to fall," Tira said. "Barely made it through; lost a horse. Kafei was too focused on getting E here to care—forced us ahead." She gave the purple-haired Sheikah a begrudgingly fond smile. "He can be an idiot sometimes, but he'll never shirk his duties. Idiot probably thinks it's all his fault...but he couldn't have known. None of us did."

"What _did_ happen?" Sheik asked.

"A story for tomorrow, I think," Tira said, shaking her head. "If you do not mind, I would rather speak of something...lighter, for now."

"Of course," Sheik said. "Thoughtless of me. How about...you tell me when _this_ —" he flicked the ring in Kafei's ear "—happened. I certainly wasn't informed of it."

"After a huge row with your aunt," Tira said, grinning at the memory. "I mean, those two have been...er..." She hesitated.

"Fucking," Sheik helpfully with a nod.

"...fucking...for years, and Impa was never happy about it," Tira said, blushing slightly. She was also a bit uptight, in Sheik's opinion, and he'd made it a goal to help her loosen up when he had the chance. "Guess she thought it was just a passing fancy they had for each other, but when it showed no sign of stopping, she had a talk with him."

"Let me guess," Sheik said, rolling his eyes, "something something, Sheikah future, blah blah blah, procreation, yadda yadda next generation? Am I in the right area?"

"Almost verbatim," Tira said, shoulders shaking at the contained mirth. "Seems she'd already had her eyes on a Sheikah girl from one of the eastern clans for him. Kafei would have none of it, but he wasn't getting through to her. Elenwe overheard and...heh, took matters into her own hands. Shouted something about blood purity and weak-jawed nobles before getting on her knees and asking for his hand right then and there. First time I've seen Impa speechless."

Sheik couldn't contain a guffaw the mental image. "I wish I'd been there to see it," he said. "And now? She's just accepted it?"

"Begrudgingly," Tira nodded. "After all, Sheikah and Gerudo _can_ have children...it's just unheard of. Impa was just concerned with furthering Kafei's line, and...well..." She trailed off, reminded of the couple's uncertain future. She gave Kafei a sad look. "I can't imagine what he'll do if she dies."

"She's tough," Sheik said firmly. "She was a pirate, for gods' sake. If anything, she'll be happy to have an excuse to get a hook."

Tira snorted, despite herself. "That's awful," she said.

"I'm pretty awful in general, me," Sheik said, winking at her.

"Eh, not as bad as _him_." She yawned, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's getting late...should be getting some rest." She rose, climbed across the table, and effortlessly hoisted Kafei onto her shoulder. "I'll take him to bed, provide him with a bucket. Good night, Sheik."

"Good night, Tira."

Soon, he was alone. He took the moment to inspect Kafei's pistol, finding it to be perfectly maintained. At least he took _that_ seriously...though Sheik would be keeping an eye on him in the future.

"Good hunter, that one," Impa said from behind him, causing him to jump.

"Don't you know never to sneak up on someone with a gun?" he asked, annoyed.

"It's not loaded or cocked, and therefore of no danger to anyone...except perhaps as club," Impa said.

"Still not a good omen to place the barrel against one's head, like Kafei did," Sheik said, handing her the pistol. "He shouldn't be allowed to drink anymore."

"Noted," Impa said. "It'll be water or milk for him from now on."

"Good." He expected that to be it for now, but when his aunt didn't leave, he glanced up at her. "Was there something else?"

Impa nodded slowly. "I've spoken with Mana, Anrym, and Ayla. Your recruit, the boy from Ordon—"

"Link."

"—Link shows promise," she finished.

"But promise isn't enough," Sheik said.

"No, but it is a start," Impa agreed. "He has the capacity to learn, and his swordsmanship is surprisingly good, if a bit predictable. Both of them agree that he is...suitable. So, I expect you'll be happy when I tell you he will be accepted as an official recruit."

Sheik did smile, despite his best attempts not to. He didn't want Impa to know that her words pleased him. "That's...good. He'll be thrilled, I'm sure."

"And Zelda seems to have taken an interest in the field of medicine," Impa continued, gracefully overlooking the small victory she'd just achieved. "She assisted Doctor Kaura during the surgery. She's still up there, helping and learning."

"Good for her," Sheik said.

"She knows her motivations for this journey were wrong," his aunt continued, just ploughing into the subject like it was nothing. "But dwelling on it doesn't do anyone any good whatsoever, nephew."

"And I'm supposed to forgive her, just like that? If she'd died, her kingdom—"

"Would find a new ruler," Impa interrupted him, leaning on her cane. "Just like any other kingdom in the world. There are plenty of noble houses with blood ties to the Royal Family. There would be some turmoil as they all came to an agreement on who should be the new monarch, but in the end Hyrule would move on—the brief reign of Princess Zelda a pleasant but fading memory, the end of her line a tragedy that cannot be reversed. Not a world-changing event, I think. Not for them, at least. For you, however..."

He refused to look at her. Of course she would play _that_ card. She did not speak for a long moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

"I don't think I need to finish," she finally said. "We've lost too many as it is because of outside forces, Sheik. Don't lose her to something you can actually control." She turned to leave, pausing to say, "Just a suggestion, of course." And then she was gone.

Sheik remained for another few minutes before leaving as well, heading directly for his cell. He probably should have found Link and Lor, ask them about their day. Perhaps speak to Zelda...but the last few hours had been tiring, and even though his stomach was rumbling he was in no mood to fill it. He only removed his jacket before climbing onto his bed, lying on top of the covers.

_Why does she always know exactly what to say?_ he thought. _Every time...my resolve just breaks..._

He tried to sleep, but it took a long time for the dark to claim him...and even then, memories of _that_ night continued to plague his dreams.


	36. The Morning After

Zelda's vision continued to blur as she tried to stay awake, determined to at least finish her breakfast before succumbing to the beckoning darkness of sleep. Her movements as she tried to shovel more of the oatmeal into her mouth were slow and unsteady, her body betraying her in a most vexing manner. Every now and then, she found that her eyes had slid shut, and it took nearly all her willpower to force them back open. A glance around her showed that the good doctor had yet to come down, meaning she was still busy with the injured Gerudo. How long ago was it the surgery had ended, now? An hour? Two? She wasn't sure...

Next to her, Link didn't seem any better off, though his fatigue seemed to have come from something other than never-ending surgery in the night. His eyes were bloodshot, and was engaging in a strange ritual. Every time he shoved the spoon into his mouth, his eyes glazed over as he continued to stare into nothingness for a minute or so, after which he shuddered and ate some more.

"Long night, too?" she asked, not even bothering with checking the grammar before uttering the words. She was just _that_ tired.

"Couldn't sleep," Link muttered in return. "Kept...imagining things."

"What things?"

Link shuddered again, giving her a look of desperation as a massive blush came to his cheeks. "If Lor offers to tell you something about...about...bedroom activities, for the love of the Goddesses, _don't accept_!"

Zelda, her sense of composure and noble bearing having taken a leave of absence, snorted into her bowl and giggled loudly, momentarily drawing the attention of the hunters around them before they returned to their own meals. She could _imagine_ the horrified look on Link's face as Lor surely told him of more than just the "regular" things that took place in an establishment like the Temple. She only wished she could have been there to see it. She'd gotten more than her fill from Sheik, in the past...

Link gave her a look of hurt before focusing on his meal again, and she half-heartedly patted his shoulder in a show of comfort. She'd say something, but her throat had clamped firmly shut at the thought of Sheik.

Was he still angry? She hadn't seen him at all after he'd gone into his workshop the day before, and after...well, she'd been busy, but she'd assumed they'd run into each other at some point. So far, however, he had not shown his face at all. Link didn't seem bothered, but then again he must have had far more traumatising things on his mind right then.

Had she known the trouble they'd end up in, she likely wouldn't have insisted on going to The Studio...or, at least, not without a proper escort. Not that she doubted Sheik's ability to keep her safe, but it was, she'd decided, too much of a burden to be putting on his shoulders, on top of his other duties. If only she'd realised that _before_ they'd set out... She didn't know what she'd do if her little brother resented her to the point where he'd actively avoid her. The winters here were long, apparently, and the thought of spending months here without his company...

No sooner had she begun to wallow in her own misery did someone plop down at the table, opposite of her seat. She glanced up, and blinked when she saw the boy in question digging into his own bowl of oatmeal (sprinkled liberally with cinnamon and sugar, just the way he'd always liked it), his gaze looking just as tired as hers and Link's. Another sleepless companion, then?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Sheik beat her to it, fixing her with a burning look that conveyed the utter seriousness of his words.

"Lie to me like that again, and we are through."

She gulped, hesitated a little, and the nodded. "I promise I will never lie to you again."

He held her gaze for a few seconds, as if trying to gauge the truthfulness of her statement. Then he smiled weakly at her, nodding, and continued to eat. "Good," he said around a mouthful. "Clanmates shouldn't fight. How is Elenwe?"

It took her a moment to find her voice again. It was one thing to be forgiven, but...clanmates? To a Sheikah, their clan was everything. It was their family, their culture, their identity. To call an outsider such a thing...well, it was tantamount to adopting said outsider into their ranks. Into their family. True, Zelda had considered Sheik a little brother for years, and she was sure he considered her, if not a sister, then at the very least some sort of relation beyond "friend", but...this was...

"She's...alive. Stable," she managed to force out, taking a big swig of water as she tried not to let the revelation rock her foundations entirely. "She...er...we lost her for a moment or two, but Kaura brought her back. Managed to stop the bleeding, though it was a close call. Kaura said as long as she made it through the night, she'd make it through...barring any infections, of course, but we'll be keeping a close eye on her to prevent that."

Sheik seemed to relax a little, his shoulders lowering a fraction. "That's good to hear. Kafei would...I'd rather not imagine what he'd do if he lost her. They're married, you know."

"Kafei...your cousin, yes?"

"Mhm," Sheik confirmed. "Idiot got massively drunk last night, blaming himself for what happened. I'll tell him she's all right when he wakes up...and stand guard to stop him from rushing the infirmary and jumping into her bed."

"Eugh, bed," Link muttered, blush returning to his cheeks. Zelda tried not to smirk.

"What's the matter with you?" Sheik asked, looking at the Hylian. "Are you feeling sick?" He reached over the table in an attempt to feel Link's forehead, but Link turned away. Zelda couldn't contain her snicker at that.

"Lor gave him a little...lecture," she revealed. "On matters most intimate." Sheik raised an eyebrow at this, clearly wanting her to go on, but she only continued snickering. "Ask him if you're so curious."

"Link?" Sheik said, turning back to him. "What did Lor tell you about?"

"Nothing!" Link half-shouted, shovelling the last of his breakfast into his mouth and taking off in a flurry, barely remembering to bring his bowl back to the kitchen area. "Sorrygottagotrainseeyoulaterbye!"

Sheik stared after him, his raised hand slowly lowering when the events caught up with his brain. "What did I just witness?"

"That, brother dear, is something only he can answer," Zelda said, relishing in being able to call him that again. She wondered what had made him change his mind so quickly, especially after his outburst the day before. He had been so _angry_... "Hey," she said, dropping her voice. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he asked, frowning.

"The...bit about clanmates? Did you really mean that?"

A faint hope that Impa hadn't just spoken the words for her comfort had started to grow within her, and she could only hope Sheik wouldn't stomp it out again.

He bit his lip, which caused the burn on his cheek to stretch slightly. He twitched a little-the pain was still there, then. "I did," he said. "I'd love to be able to say I came to the conclusion on my own, but...it had to be pointed out to me. I've...lost enough family as it is, and I cannot lose more. I _will_ not lose more, especially not when I can do something about it. So yes, I meant it. There's usually some sort of ceremony, but as far as I'm concerned, you're Half Sun, my kin, and anyone who disagrees will have to take it up with me!"

The last words were spoken at a volume, his tone firm and challenging. It drew the attention of the other hunters in the hall. The Sheikah hunters gave them a once-over before nodding and resuming their meals, while the non-Sheikah simply gave each other bewildered looks before doing the same.

She gave him—her clanmate—the biggest grin she could muster. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice failing her.

"We'll have to get you an earring," Sheik said, his grin suddenly a little too wide for comfort. "To make it official. And a tattoo, of course."

"Wait, what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter on the idiot siblings reuniting, and an apology for the long delay in another chapter of this being posted. I have no excuse other than writer's block and having my creativity stomped out by working full-time all summer.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will show up MUCH faster than this one did!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> -Andy


	37. The Job

Impa waited with, in her opinion, great patience as her cousin (several times removed) finished hurling his insides out, looking the image of abject misery. It was his just desserts, of course, what with how much plonk he'd managed to consume in the span of a few hours and for the ruckus he'd caused. He was upset—she understood that, and even sympathised with him, but that was no excuse to behave like a buffoon. There would certainly be some form of punishment in store for him at some point, but Impa figured she would wait until Elenwe was awake to help dole it out (and she wouldn't stop at purple hair this time!).

"Has anyone told you that you're creepy when you stare like that?"

Kafei had withdrawn his face from the bucket to glare weakly at her, looking quite green around the gills. His hair was matted to his face, the whites of his eyes nearly as red as his pupils. It had been a long night for him. The room smelled like sick, as did the man himself, and Impa had to fight the urge to throw him into the nearest trough for a good scrubbing. Later, she promised herself. Later.

"Everyone does," she said with a nod. She was leaning casually against the windowsill, glancing out into the whirling blizzard outside every now and then. The flurries were so thick and heavy the sunlight couldn't penetrate it, leaving seemingly perpetual darkness outside. It had ruined her planned rude awakening for Kafei—after all, were there greater pleasures than pulling the curtains on someone trying to sleep off a hangover? She'd yet to find any. "But I find it to be a great motivator."

Kafei burped and went back into the bucket for another round against the laws of biology, the sheer volume he'd expelled at this point surely being more than the total of his bodyweight. He moaned, and Impa finally took pity on him. She poured him a glass of water and mixed in a small vial of some strange concoction the twins had promised would reduce the symptoms of a drunken night (albeit with some side-effects, as it was still very much in the prototype stage). Tapping his shoulder, she wordlessly handed him the glass, which he downed gratefully, only grimacing after it was all gone.

"Congratulations, you are the first test subject for twins' soon-to-be-patented hangover cure," she said cheerfully, taking the glass and pouring him some more water, this time without the cure. One dose was plenty, apparently.

"Whoopee," he said with the enthusiasm of a man awaiting his execution. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

Impa sniffed. "I suppose, but I would have expected you to be more worried about your wife."

Kafei's half-lidded eyes slammed open, and he made a choking sound. "E!" He tried to stand up, but his body was not willing to cooperate, leaving him sprawled on the floor, fingers scrabbling for handholds in the rough planks of the tower floor. Impa suspected he'd drag himself to the infirmary if she didn't interfere. Sighing, she stepped in front of him and, with little effort, pulled him up and planted him back on his bed. "Impa, I—"

"You're of no use to anyone in your current condition," Impa interrupted. "Certainly not to Elenwe, who is still alive, so you can breathe easy." The entirety of Kafei deflated like a balloon at that. "We had to remove her arm, but from what I understand she will live."

"Her arm," Kafei moaned. "Gods..."

"Now," Impa said, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing him up until he was leaning against the wall. If he looked miserable before, he'd crossed into despair now. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Tira has already filled me in, but I'd like to hear it from you, the lead hunter. Report."

Her tone left no room for argument, and he sensed it, straightening his posture. "It was about as routine a hunt as it could be, at first. The village elders drove a hard bargain; they only agreed to pay us quarter in advance—we never got the rest, as you can imagine."

"I'll have someone stop by when the pass thaws—from what Tira told me, the hunt was at least completed."

"It was," he said with a nod. "So yeah, they owe us."

"So, you negotiated with the village..."

"...and headed off into the woods," Kafei continued. "After listening to the stories, inquiring about the victims, and doing some basic tracking, we concluded that it was a normal troll infestation, as you suspected. We tracked the beasts to their cave some miles north of the village, waiting until noon to ensure they'd be firmly asleep. We then entered the cave with spears and flash bombs."

Impa nodded as he spoke. This was all according to procedures laid out by the veteran hunters of the past. It was exactly how she'd handle it. Flash bombs to surprise and blind the trolls, and spears to finish them off from a distance. Big and strong, the beasts' jugulars were as vulnerable as any other creature's—especially forest trolls'.

"We came across the harem, and went to work. There were no juveniles, so there were just the females and the alpha male." Kafei gritted his teeth and covered his mouth for a moment, a wave of nausea passing through him. "We followed procedure; swift and merciless to limit suffering. It was over in minutes."

"Or so you thought," Impa said.

"Or so we thought," Kafei agreed. "When the male went down, we took a few minutes to ensure they were all dead, because a wounded troll—"

"—is a deadly troll," Impa intoned. "As Master Terra said."

Kafei nodded. "None lived...and then we discovered the second tunnel. And its occupants."

"How many females in the harem?"

Kafei's brows furrowed. "Five, which was within the average."

"And how many more did you find in the second tunnel?"

"Four, the biggest of the bunch," Kafei said. "And that's where things went to shit. We barely had time to react before they attacked. We were nearly out of flash bombs, but we used the few we had left to great effect. My spear broke, and I had to use my backup axe."

Troll hides were exceptionally tough unless proper tools were used. Impa had a scar on her back as a reminder of that fact.

"We dealt with the newcomers, not quite as fast as we'd have liked. By the time the last troll fell dead, we were exhausted."

He swallowed heavily, and Impa knew the most difficult part of the story came next. She waited, giving him the time to gather himself.

"Then the second male showed up," he said bitterly. "I have never seen two males in a single pack, have you?"

"No," Impa said. "Never. There is always _one_ alpha male—betas are either driven from the pack upon reaching sexual maturity, or the beta replaces the alpha by killing him and taking over the pack. This is unprecedented, and I can only hope it was an anomaly. I will warn the other workshops, however, to keep a lookout in case it should happen again. But the mere presence of a second male wasn't the only strange thing about this..."

"It wasn't a forest troll," he said. "It was a fucking mountain!"

Impa looked at the floor, her mind going through everything she knew about trolls and their many subspecies. While forest and mountain trolls, by virtue of their environments, shared territories in many places, the two species had never had much love for each other. It wasn't unheard of for one pack to go to war with another, trying to exterminate their rivals. It was one thing for a pack of forest trolls to grow to such a large size (five females or less was the average), but to share a habitat with one from the mountain subspecies? _That_ was bizarre and utterly unheard of, and something Impa hoped was only a freak occurrence.

"And then?"

"All hell broke loose, and E...E...I panicked." He looked her dead in the eye. "There is no other word for it. I panicked, and lost control of the situation. The bastard snuck up on us, and by the time I realised it was going for her, I..." He looked down at his hands, clenching his fists. "I was useless."

"Elenwe took the brunt of the blow with her arm, which shattered almost completely," Impa finished for him. "Using her lamp, Tira set the troll's feet on fire, and you hacked its head off after she severed the tendons in its knees." She was actually quite impressed with how quickly they'd dispatched the damn thing after such an abrupt change in the situation, and with one hunter down, but that was their training and instincts taking over rather than conscious thought, she supposed. Still, taking a mountain troll's head off with anything less than a razor-sharp halberd? Impressive. "All in all, a job well done—"

"Well done?" he asked. "Elenwe's lost her arm—in what way was that a hunt gone well?"

"You're all alive, for one, if slightly worse for wear," Impa pointed out. "As far as I'm concerned, any hunt you can walk away from..."

"Elenwe couldn't walk away from it," Kafei growled. "As party leader, I bear the responsibility for this fiasco—"

"But you _did_ take responsibility, and brought Elenwe back in time for Doctor Kaura to save her life." She reached out and brushed some stray locks from his face, surprising him with the gentleness of it. "That is all I require of my hunters, Kafei. You walked into what was supposed to be a textbook operation that went wrong in all the worst ways...but you all came out of it alive— _and_ you managed to finish the job. You may not consider it as such, but in my eyes this was a success."

"I doubt E will feel that way."

"Somehow, I don't think the loss of an arm is going to be much of a hindrance to her kicking your arse up and down these halls for wallowing in self-pity like you're doing now. Is this _really_ what you want her to wake up to?" she asked, gesturing to the sweaty, broken mess of a man in front of her.

"She wouldn't like that," he admitted, glancing towards the mirror above the wash basin.

"That's the spirit," she said with mock cheer. "Get some rest, now, and let the brothers' concoction do its work, and I will see you downstairs for lunch. Doctor Kaura will be there to answer any questions you may have, I'm sure."

"Can I see—"

"Later," she interrupted. "She needs her rest, and the fewer cooks in a kitchen, et cetera... Sleep now, and we'll talk more later."

She left the tower chamber Kafei shared with Elenwe (a perk of being a married couple), and descended to the ground floor. It was time for breakfast, and she was curious to see if the seed she'd planted in Sheik the night before had begun to grow. She passed Mana on the way, nodding to her. She knew where Impa had been.

It could perhaps be seen as favouritism, but it was difficult not to ensure that a boy she had helped raise was, at the very least, at ease with his role in what was admittedly an utter disaster of an operation. Had she known about the anomalies, she'd have sent a larger party with heavier weaponry. Maybe then Elenwe wouldn't have gotten hurt...but ah, that was all speculation. The present was what it was, and they could only move forward while taking this experience with them.

I know that more than most, Impa thought, her silver-tipped cane tapping along the stone floor.

* * *

"Yoo-hoo, it's only me," Ayla announced as she more or less dragged Lor into the laboratory. Most undignified, in his opinion, but it was either that or have her carry him inside, and he'd had enough of that after the trip up the tower.

There was a heavy smell of chemicals, and a slight haze, in the air. It burned his nostrils. At the end of the room, close to a complicated-looking set of glass beakers, tubes, and burners, a figure stood with their back turned to them. The shock-white hair gave his identity away immediately. He waved at them vaguely, not turning to face them just yet.

"Ayla, good to see you," the scientist said, his voice slightly muffled. "Stay over there, will you? Working with caustics over here, and you don't want to breathe it in. In fact, could you open that window over there a little? About two notches?"

"Might want to button that," Ayla told Lor, referring to his coat, which was open. She pried open one of the shuttered windows, and the wind that blew in was freezing cold, proving that the storm was still raging. It helped remove the smell, however, and the haze cleared a little right away. "Whatcha doin', doc?" Ayla then asked. "And where's number two?"

"Oh, just general experimentation right now," he replied. "And don't let Ard hear you call him that—he'll burn your eyebrows off, or something like that."

So, this was Erd, then? Lor found his presence far easier than Ard's...though, so far he'd only been in the same room as the apparently crankier twin for less than a minute, so there wasn't much to judge from.

Erd sealed the beaker he was fiddling with and carefully replaced it in a rack before turning to them. He removed his heavy rubber gloves and the breathing mask, giving them a big smile. "And who's this? One of the newcomers?" He directed the last question at Lor, giving another, more friendly, wave.

"Yup, this is Lor. He's from Hyrule, and came up with Sheik."

"Ah, our hero, as I understand it," Erd said, stepping forward to shake Lor's hand. "Keeper of our secrets, as it were."

Lor smiled shyly back. He couldn't get over how he'd been welcomed among the hunters once they'd been told of, in his opinion, his meagre accomplishment. That no one batted an eyelash when they learned of his past, or recognised the tattoo on his cheek, was unusual. In Castle Town, everyone knew exactly who he was and what he did, based on the ink alone, but here...well, he'd seen similar tattoos on other hunters. Ayla was already planning on how to change his into something less...loaded with meaning.

"It's nice to meet you, professor...?" he said.

"And so polite, too," Erd said, chuckling. "I'm no professor, I'm afraid. My education has never been formally recognised, being as scattered as it is, but I've never needed a piece of paper to tell me what I know or don't know. Ah, but I ramble. You can call me Erd." The shake was rigorous and firm. "I'd introduce you to my brother, Ard, but he's currently downstairs, attending to the l...something."

He'd clearly stumbled, almost saying something he shouldn't, but Lor didn't press him on it. It wasn't his business. Ayla pretended not to have noticed as well.

"Anyway, the bastard's not here," Erd finished lamely.

"They've already met," Ayla said. "He was treated to the customary stare and silence as only Ard can give them."

Erd stared for a moment, and Lor got the uncomfortable impression it was at his tattoo. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—recognition? "Oh, right, I see. I can only apologise, then, if my brother offended you. He's always been quiet, but when he starts staring...he means nothing by it, I assure you."

"I wasn't offended, don't worry," Lor said quickly. "He seems...nice."

That was met with a pair of snorts from Ayla and Erd. "My brother is many things, but 'nice' isn't one of them," Erd said. "He prefers being honest, brutally so. Worrying about the feelings of others is not his specialty. That said, sometimes that's just what we need, isn't it?"

"Too bad he's a pain in the arse the rest of the time," Ayla said sourly, making Erd chuckle.

"Indeed, but what can you do?" He glanced back Lor. "So, what can I do for you? Are you just here for a tour?"

"Not just that," Ayla said. Lor blinked. He was under the impression that's exactly what this visit was for. "It's going to be a long winter, and the risk of going stir-crazy up here without anything to do is pretty much constant. I figured you could give Lor here something to do to keep his mind occupied while his body heals."

Two pairs of eyes regarded Ayla with confusion.

What on earth was she playing at? Of what possible use could Lor be to the two scientists who, judging by the looks of their workspace, engaged in what might as well be arcane arts for all he understood of it. The diagrams alone almost made his head hurt!

"Ayla, I don't—"

"Well," Erd said slowly, looking back at Lor. "We could do with someone to take notes and such...and transfer them to proper volumes. Can you read and write, Lor?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Ard and I have the worst handwriting in the world—practically illegible, according to Impa. If you'd be willing, I'd love it if you could transcribe our notes into something properly readable, both for the benefit of us, and the future occupants of this lab. Would that be agreeable?"

Lor found himself nodding, despite how uncertain he felt. "If...if you feel comfortable letting me do that, then...yes. I'm not...I don't have any education, though, so I won't understand anything—"

"Neither do we, half the time," Erd said happily. "That's why we run so many experiments—to learn. If there's something specific you're curious about, just ask. I'll try to enlighten you to the best of my abilities...unless it's about statistical analysis. Can't bloody stand it. I let Ard handle that tripe." He looked absolutely disgusted by the notion.

Lor laughed at that, which seemed to please Erd.

"Wonderful," Ayla announced, clapping her hands. "That's two problems taken care—your need of an assistant, and Lor's need of an occupation." She grabbed his hand and began hauling him back towards the door. "We have a tour to continue, Erd. I'll bring him by tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"That will be fine, Ayla," Erd replied. "By the way, have you figured out the spring mechanism yet?"

She paused, grimacing. "Eh, turns out my design is a bit too advanced for the crude equipment we've got up here," she said. "Hafthor says he doesn't have the skills or tools needed to make something that fine. I'll see what I can find after winter—maybe an artisan in Termina, or something. In the meantime, I've got another idea that I'll be looking into. I'll bring it by someday so you can look at it."

"I'll look forward to it. Have a good day, you two, and I'll see you tomorrow, Lor."

Erd waited until he heard their steps on the stairs leading back down to the main keep before turning to a crumpled pile of papers on one of the tables. Ard had struggled with his sketching the night before, and if Erd wasn't too mistaken...

Smoothing out one of the failed drawings, he almost guffawed. There was no mistaking that design for anything but the one on Lor's cheek.

"Oh, brother," he said. "This is going to be fun!"

* * *

Ascal narrowed his eyes at the array of lights ahead of him, stretching out across the valley. Whiteridge had grown drastically since he'd last been here. Had it really been that long, for the population to grow to this size naturally, or had there been some sort of influx of travellers who'd decided to stay? Surely not, who on earth could possibly want to remain in this godforsaken hellhole when given an option?

He sighed. This would complicate matters, certainly, but at the same time it was an opportunity. He'd taken a look at the Studio, and found that the defences had been tightened up considerably. There was no way to get in there without being spotted and causing all hell to break loose. It was only due to the storm he'd avoided detection so far, if his memory of the hunters' watch patterns was still any good.

A plan had already formed, naturally (on occasion, his mind's inability to settle came in handy), but it would take time to execute. A lot of time. Time he worried he didn't have. And manpower, another thing he didn't have, but thanks to Whiteridge, perhaps he would.

The wind whistled through the trees and rocks, and he turned back, heading towards the cache he'd left Art in. Hopefully, the man had recovered and gotten warm by now. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and he couldn't do it all on his own...at least not at a satisfactory pace. The storm would have to settle a little first, but they could begin preparing right away, at least.

He wanted to get this over with. He wanted to go home. He wanted to...to see his young lord. His sire would surely laugh at him for his attachment to his benefactor, but Ascal didn't care. Traditions and _normal_ behaviour had never sat well with him anyway. They only got you killed, in the end. Ascal's sire had learned that the hard way, and Ascal had no intention of joining him anytime soon in that watery grave...

"First things first," he muttered to himself, trudging through thigh-deep snow. "The watchtower."

He glanced towards the southern end of the mountain pass. There, on a craggy cliff, stood the remains of an ancient watchtower. It had been crumbling on Ascal's last sojourn, but the current hunters had clearly seen the benefit of having it repaired and manned. With the storm raging, it was of little use, of course, but when it cleared up the watchtower would have a prime view of the entire pass...and anyone who moved around in it.

"Can't have anyone watching," he said.

The path to the tower was treacherous and difficult to climb—he wouldn't be surprised if it was manned for weeks at a time before the crew was relieved by another. Time it right, and no one would realise anything had happened before it was far too late. Unless, of course, a check-in signal was in use. That necessitated some observation, and that was where Ascal would focus his observation for now. Perhaps there was even a non-lethal solution to it all—vampire or not, he did not like the idea of engaging hunters again. Too difficult to fight in groups, and with so many of them in one location...

The Studio was too difficult a target just yet, and Whiteridge he would tackle soon enough. The watchtower would prove a challenging goal in itself, but the perfect way to start things off. In the end, Ascal had no doubt that he would have Sheik _and_ the princess in the palms of his hands. He couldn't wait!

For now, however, it was time to return to Art. Perhaps there was even some tea left...

* * *

"Who do you work for?"

"Get fucked—argh!"

"I _said_ , who do you work for?"

Eren stood guard as Nikal tried to get some useful information out of their latest target. They'd cornered him in an alley after leading him on a chase, making him believe they were as harmless as kittens. Eren's knife in his heels had quickly taught him different. Amazing, really, how helpless a man becomes after cutting the tendons...so vulnerable.

He watched one of two exits—the one he was standing at was the only one leading back to the streets. The other led to a sewer grate they'd opened a few hours before, as a secondary escape route in case the first was compromised. There weren't any visible bloodstains ahead, and no windows around them. It would only be by accident that someone stumbled upon their activities.

"You should start talking, if you wanna leave this alley alive," Nikal said, drawing another pained moan from the man. "You can't walk, but right now you can still drag yourself back out. You wanna lose that option too?"

"When the others find me, ye're gonna _wish_ they'd kill you," the man promised, his voice filled with pure loathing. "They'll take turns, with the both of ye! Sell ye on the fucking markets after!"

Nikal made a grunt of discontent. "Eren, what's your favourite finger?"

"Remember to start with the nails," he reminded her, tossing a pair of pliers to her. "It's a shame to waste them."

"Ah, you're right," she said, slapping her forehead. "Eugh, the boss would be so disappointed if he heard that."

"Can't let 'im down," Eren said. Sheik was relying on them to figure out the riddle before he got back...or possibly unravelling the whole damn conspiracy, if possible. That'd surprise him, no doubt! A beginning whimper turned into an agonised howl as Nikal got to work.

"Now, I've got a pretty good grip here, not likely to slip," Nikal said calmly. "I'll start with the pinkie—that one's practically useless, anyway. So...who's your boss?"

To his credit, the man only steeled himself. "Just you wait, girl. Ye'll get it...the both of you will!"

It was going to be a long night.


	38. The Song

The storm lasted for a week. By the time the skies cleared and the weak sun lit up the pass, the snows had piled so high it took the combined efforts of five hunters to push the doors to the main hall open, the drifts having gathered at about waist-height. At some point, the horses and mules had been moved into the keep proper because the stables had almost collapsed under the weight of the snow on its roof. It was a collective relief for everyone to be able to step outside again without fear of getting lost or freezing to death.

Sheik in particular relished in the fresh air and somewhat warming sunlight, taking a moment to bask in it on top of the ramparts, stretching. He'd been holed up in his workshop for the entire week, going back and forth with Hafthor regarding the sword. His initial design showed promise, but needed some refinement before they'd be able to actually make a prototype. That suited Sheik just fine. With Link busy being trained (a process he was not allowed to interfere with), Lor working with the twins as an assistant (a development he'd never even imagined) and Zelda spending all her time with Doctor Kaura and Tao, he was left with very little to do.

Maybe he was feeling a little lonely, but what was one to do? Had his friends _not_ found things with which to keep themselves occupied, Sheik was sure they'd be driving him insane by constantly being underfoot and interrupting his work. Still, he'd appreciate being able to see them apart from at mealtimes.

A snowball hit the stone wall beside his head, exploding and showering him with rapidly melting flakes, some finding their way underneath his scarf and down his neck. He cast a sharp glare at the offender, who was chuckling beneath his stupid hat.

"You're supposed to be shovelling snow," Kiro said, aiming another projectile at Sheik, who caught it mid-air and threw it right back. Kiro dodged, grinning. "Ah, too slow, cousin."

"It's cold," Sheik muttered. "Slows you down."

"Looks plenty warm where you're standing," Kiro said, coming to stand next to him in the sun. "Ah, no wonder you chose this spot. I swear, you're like a cat—you always find the best places."

Sheik pushed him away. "Find your own spot, your hat is blocking the light!"

Kiro pouted, pushing the ridiculously broad brim back a little, trying to give Sheik a wobbly lip as well. "You're so mean, Sheik. How on earth do you even have friends with that disposition?"

Sheik chose not to dignify that with an answer, noting the rifle slung over Kiro's shoulder. "Expecting trouble?" he asked.

"Policy," Kiro replied. "Impa wants us to look strong, which means carrying arms whenever we're on the walls. You should consider getting a rifle for your shifts up here."

"I'm fine with pistols," Sheik said, mournfully grabbing his shovel and moving out of the sun to begin shovelling the multiple feet of snow off the ramparts. As duties went, this one wasn't so bad. It was better than cleaning up after the horses inside, at least.

"Not for long-range shooting," Kiro noted as he joined Sheik, clearing the snow away.

"Frankly, I'd rather leave that to you."

"Well, I _am_ pretty good," Kiro said, preening. "Did I tell you about the time I shot a goliath—"

"—straight through the eye?" Sheik interrupted. "Yeah, quite a few times, actually. You need some new stories, cousin."

"Well, if Impa would assign me to a contract every now and then, I'd have plenty, but _no_ , she wants me here, training the others to shoot better." He scowled. "A damn waste of my talent, it is."

"So that's why you spend most of your time at the range," Sheik said.

"Pretty much," Kiro said with a shrug. "I'll actually be training your farmer later today."

Sheik paused, leaning on his shovel. "Really? So soon?"

"He's progressing quicker than Anrym expected." Kiro mirrored his pose. "Quick enough for him to be able to work on his swordplay _and_ gunplay at the same time. Twice the workload! Lucky bastard, eh?"

_Link didn't tell me that last night at dinner,_ Sheik thought. He blinked, and then looked at Kiro. "I should probably warn you," he said.

"About?" Kiro asked.

"About Link's...aversion to firearms. Specifically, to gunpowder. He doesn't like using guns."

"He's that bad?"

Sheik snorted. "Bad? He's a damn good shot, actually. Taught by his father, but...something happened, and he doesn't like it." He paused, and hesitated. "Do you...think you can find some alternative for him? Without powder?"

Kiro grimaced. "Not without an instant summer so we can leave the valley, and about five thousand rupees," he said. "There are air rifles that don't use gunpowder, but they're ridiculously expensive and difficult to maintain. He's better off getting over his problems with the black stuff."

Sheik briefly entertained the idea, and found it unlikely that Link would simply _get over_ having accidentally killed his own sister with a pistol. He shook his head again. "That won't happen, I think. Not for a long time, at least. Are you sure there isn't something else? It's just a matter of having a ranged alternative, right?"

"I don't think so, but I'll have a look in the armoury," Kiro promised him. "Maybe there's something the old hunters left us."

"That's all I ask," Sheik said, smiling gratefully. "If you don't find anything, then he'll simply have to make do."

"That's right," Kiro said cheerfully, and they continued to work.

About half an hour passed, and they were close to halfway along the parapet. The view of the valley from here was stunning—they could see the smoke rising from the chimneys of Whiteridge, the snow-covered roofs glittering in the morning sun. Tiny little black ants moved among the houses—the townspeople hard at work to clear the snow away, just like the hunters. A chilling, but gentle breeze swept across the landscape, and the air smelled clean and crisp.

The idyll was broken when Kiro, with a positively lecherous grin approached him. "So, I've been giving you time to breach the subject yourself, but it seems I have to take the lead, as usual," he said.

"I can't wait," Sheik said with mock-enthusiasm.

"Ah, there's that main branch sarcasm we all know and love." Kiro laughed. "I hope you realise that half the Studio has a bet going on."

"A bet? What bet?" Sheik didn't like the sound of this.

"About the two of you. You and your farmer."

"I have no idea what you're—"

"Hah, you're a terrible liar, cousin. That blush of yours is visible from miles away, even under that crackle on your cheek."

Sheik pulled up his collar to hide his burning face and turned away, viciously clearing away more snow. "That's not funny—there's nothing going on between us."

"You can say that all you want, but the looks you two keep giving each other over dinner...it's nauseatingly adorable—like a pair of puppies." Kiro's hat appeared in the corner of Sheik's vision about a second before the man himself came into view. "Almost everyone knows, and at this point we're betting on when one of us will catch the two of you snogging in a corner, or something."

"You don't have anything better to do with your time?" Sheik asked, almost snarling. He'd thought he'd been careful with his looks—he'd tried not to say anything to Link that could be interpreted as anything but platonic and friendly.

"Not for the past week, no," Kiro said with a cackle. "Come on, it's the most fun we've had since Hafthor and Reno!"

"What about Ayla and Myde?" Sheik asked, trying to keep his mind from coming to a screeching halt. How obvious had he been? If the whole Studio knew...but Impa hadn't said anything, so did she...?

"Those two are more liable to kill each other before the snogging starts," Kiro said mournfully. "Or during, now that I think about it. Anyway, Myde didn't make it up here in time, so we won't get to see _that_ performance until next year, unfortunately."

Sheik contemplated the advantages to hurling himself off the parapet and just ending it. Anything was better than being the laughing stock of the entire Studio! He looked at Kiro, afraid of the answer to what he was about to ask. "And my aunt? Does she know?"

Kiro indicated no. "Nah, we don't involve her in this. We know what she thinks of fraternising. She knows she can't stop it, but that doesn't mean she can't make our lives a little more miserable for it."

"Unless you're married," Sheik said, relieved that Impa was kept in the dark for now. He didn't dare consider what she'd do if she found out about his and Link's...whatever it was they had. He'd find the instigator of the bet, however, and kick their arse. Knowing his luck, it was the idiot with the hat right next to him. He then thought about the advantages of throwing _Kiro_ off the parapet instead.

_How rare can marksmen like him be, really?_ he wondered, fighting the itch in his hands.

"I didn't start it, by the way," Kiro said, seemingly reading his mind.

"Who did, then?"

"Their identity shall be kept a secret for their protection," he said, poking his tongue out at Sheik.

Sheik was about to make a retort, when something flashed in the distance, towards the southern end of the mountain pass. It was coming from the old watchtower, short and long pulses of light in specific patterns.

"Looks like Iteos and the others made it through the storm okay," Kiro said, squinting at the signal code. "Minor damage to the roof..."

"...and they've run low on firewood, otherwise everything is fine," Sheik finished, giving Kiro a smug look. "You need to work on your interpreting speed."

"Meh, this is the only place we need to use that code," the big-hatted Sheikah said with a derisive snort and continued working. "No point wasting time on a mostly useless skill. Come on, I want to get off this wall at some point today."

Sheik couldn't agree more with that, and they were soon back at work.

* * *

"Show me what you can do."

Link sighed and picked up the pistol, weighing it in his hand and testing the sight. It was a high-quality gun. His Sheikah instructor, Kiro, had pulled from a holster on his hip—a personally customised weapon. Link was almost surprised he was allowed to touch it.

"Take your time," Kiro said, voice calm and friendly, flashing him a cheeky smile. "We've got the whole afternoon to play together."

Rolling his eyes, Link turned to the target range, where a large group of mannequins had been set up at different distances. He really didn't want to do this, but there'd been no choice in the matter.

Impa insisted on her hunters carrying at least one ranged weapon in addition to their melee choice of arms. Most of the hunters he'd seen at the Studio carried a large variety of swords, spears, hammers, whips, axes, and other close-range tools.

Kiro, on the other hand, seemed to be primarily a ranged fighter, judging by the fact that he only seemed to have a short sword to complement the ridiculous number of pistols he had on his person. He must have spent hours just getting all the holsters on every morning. The rifle on his back was also clearly a custom job—it even had a scope.

Link wondered if Sheik had talked to Kiro about his...dislike for guns, and if that was the reason for why the Sheikah wasn't pestering him to get started. If he had, Link wasn't sure if he felt grateful or slightly annoyed...

Sighing again, he chose his target, raised the pistol, and pulled the trigger. The straw bags attached to the walls and ceiling muffled the sound, reducing the echo considerably. The head of the mannequin—next to farthest away from him—exploded in a shower of wood shavings and straw.

Next to him, Kiro whistled quietly. "Sheik said you were good—he certainly wasn't joking! That's almost seventy paces!"

"Dad taught me to shoot at that range," Link said quietly, handing the pistol back to Kiro, who immediately drew the one on his other hip and gave it to the farmer.

"Try hitting the one at the back—doesn't matter where," the Sheikah urged. "I just want to see if you can. That's a hundred paces—beyond the pistol's effective range. You'd need a rifle to hit it reliably, but...humour me, yeah?"

Without hesitation, Link took the gun, aimed, and fired. The ball slammed into the mannequin where its legs met the lower torso.

Kiro's eyes widened at that. "That's, er...that's a damn good shot!"

"I was aiming for its chest," Link said, handing him the gun.

"Doesn't matter, that's still a debilitating injury. At least on a man. Some beasts aren't as vulnerable down there, but...holy hell!" Kiro took the pistol and holstered it before vaulting over the small fence that separated them from the targets, jogging over to the mannequin. He guffawed. "Right in the jewels!"

Kiro had him shoot the other mannequins at different ranges for the next half hour or so, apparently trying to see if his previous shots were pure flukes. When Link didn't miss once, he grew more and more enthusiastic until he told the Ordonian to stop. Link knew what was next. Practically vibrating with excitement, Kiro retrieved one of the rifles from a rack, showed Link how to load it, and told him to have at it.

"Same as before," he said. "Pick your target and fire."

"Never used a rifle before," Link muttered, testing its unfamiliar weight and the slightly uncomfortable posture it forced him into.

"Hence why I'm teaching you," Kiro said, positioning himself behind Link to correct his stance. "Lefty, eh? Stand like this, instead—right side pointing forwards. Square your shoulders—you don't want the butt slamming into you. These things are far more powerful than pistols—they've got a hell of a recoil. Damn thing will jump right out of your grip if you're not prepared for it."

That was all the instruction he got, and Link picked a medium-ranged target this time. The recoil was, as Kiro promised, something else entirely. The butt of the rifle hit his shoulder with bruising strength, but he didn't allow the gun to escape his grip.

"Did I hit?" he asked, too preoccupied with not losing control to notice where his shot went.

"Centre mass," Kiro confirmed. "Gut shot. Nasty way to go." He took the rifle and quickly reloaded it for Link. Handing it back, he pointed towards the recently castrated mannequin and grinned. "Why don't you put the poor bastard out of his misery? Head or centre mass, go."

Breathing evenly, Link assumed the same stance, Kiro only adjusting it minutely this time, and fired. He was prepared for the recoil this time, and he didn't allow the butt to hit him this time, resting it firmly against his shoulder. The shot felt true, this time. The mannequin's head exploded. just like the other one.

When Kiro said nothing, Link turned to him. The Sheikah was groping blindly for something over his head—presumably the _extremely_ broad-brimmed hat he'd worn upon entering the range, currently resting on a table nearby—while staring at the mannequin.

"Was...was that all right?" Link asked.

"Kid, you're a fucking natural," Kiro said, letting out a breathy chuckle. "If I didn't know how you felt about this, I'd say you should be a marksman, not a brawler." He punched Link in the arm, grinning. "We'd make a dangerous team, you and I."

Blushing slightly at the praise, Link nodded. "Thanks, but I—"

"—don't like guns, I know," Kiro said, frowning. "Still, if you want to be a hunter here, you need to have some sort of ranged alternative." He took the rifle and inspected it. "I have to talk to Impa about something—why don't you take this apart and clean it? There's a manual over there—everything you need to know is in it."

Link was left alone at the range, manual open in front of him. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel that he'd done something wrong. Would they not let him become a hunter solely based on his aversion to firearms? Surely not?

* * *

"Enter."

Impa raised an eyebrow when Kiro entered her office, looking a little confused.

"Master," he greeted her.

"Kiro, what can I do for you?" she asked. "Aren't you supposed to be testing our newest recruit right now?"

"That's why I'm here," he said, seating himself in the chair by her desk. "As far as the basics go, there's nothing I can teach him. The kid's a natural—if anything, I'd like to move onto more advanced stuff right away. Moving targets, and the like."

"He's that good?" she asked. "I was told he killed a lycanthrope with one shot on his hunt with Sheik, but I figured that was pure luck."

"I had him shoot for a half hour, at different targets at different ranges," Kiro said. "He didn't miss once. Not _once_. I gave him a rifle, which he's never used before, and not only did he _not_ miss on his first shot, he instinctively corrected himself on his second and nailed the target in the head at one hundred paces. Even _I_ couldn't do that! It took me _weeks_ to hit at that range at all, and not nearly as accurately!"

Impa allowed that information to sink in. Kiro had been the fastest learner she'd ever seen in all her years as a hunter—Link surpassing him was almost impossible to imagine. Perhaps her nephew wasn't so bad at picking out new recruits after all. "I see..."

"With a little training, he'd be an excellent sniper, I'm sure," Kiro continued, but she picked up on his hesitant tone.

"Though this will not happen because...?" she asked, trailing off.

"He's not overly fond of firearms, and seems to hate firing them," Kiro said, shaking his head. "Apparently something happened when he was younger, and it's...left an imprint, I guess. Sheik told me about it. I've never seen someone take to marksmanship so quickly, but he clearly hates every second of it."

"A pity, but I suppose he'll have to make do with a single pistol as a backup, then. From what I understand, he's not untalented with a sword either." Impa leaned back in her chair. She wasn't sure why he'd chosen to interrupt the session to come tell her this. Surely it could have waited until after? "Unless...there's something else you wish to discuss with me?"

Kiro nodded. "I'd hate to see such talent go to waste just because of the equipment," he said. "I know that the hunters of old had their own ranged weapons—crossbows and the like. With your permission, I'd like to take a look in the old armoury, see if there's anything worth salvaging for him to use there."

Impa frowned. The old armoury was usually kept under firm lock and key—both for the protection of the old hunters' secrets, as well as the preservation of the equipment itself. The things kept inside it were more than just antiques, after all. Half the equipment in there was beyond repair, both from age and the fact that no one knew how to operate or repair it anymore. Many old manuals and primers had been lost over the centuries, which would always be a sore point to any Master Hunter.

"You do not believe he could be convinced to use powder-based weaponry?" she asked. "Is he so firmly entrenched against them?"

"I suppose we could try, but I think that would only result in a very angry Sheik yelling at us," Kiro said, chuckling weakly. "He warned me against it, actually."

"Yes, we wouldn't want that," Impa said drily. True, her nephew's tantrums could be quite impressive, but in the end _she_ was the master hunter...but still, it was going to be a long winter, and the less noise made the better. "Very well, I will allow it." She scribbled a quick note and signed it, handing it to him. "Give this to Mana. She will let you inside the armoury. If you find something, please check in with me first, just so I know what exactly you're removing from it."

"Yes, Master. Thank you!" he said, saluting cheekily as he left her office.

She found herself wondering when she'd started pandering to recruits, and tried to ignore the voice in her head mocking her for bending to her nephew's will. It was a dirty trick, using Kiro as a proxy, but she had to applaud Sheik's ability to manipulate them both.

She focused on the report on her desk again, happy to have had the momentary distraction of Kiro, since the contents of _this_ was anything but happy. Had she known what lay beneath them, she'd never have authorised the damn tunnel in the first place...

* * *

Sheik was surprised when there was a knock on his cell door, and he found Link on the other side.

"Shouldn't you be with Kiro?" he asked, letting the Ordonian inside.

"He let me go for the afternoon," Link said. "I think I impressed him. Said he didn't have anything else planned, and we'd meet again tomorrow after Mana's lessons." He looked around the sparse chamber, quickly spotting the object that had been holding Sheik's attention for the past hour. "Is that your lyre?"

"Er, yes," Sheik said, blushing a little. He hadn't played in a long time, and he'd spent the afternoon reacquainting himself with the instrument. He wasn't sure why he'd suddenly felt the urge to do so, but he figured he'd earned a little leisure time.

"Can you play me something?" Link asked eagerly, eyes lit up like those of a child at a fair. "Please?"

_How could I ever say no to that face?_ Sheik thought, nodding mutely as he seated himself on the edge of his bed, gingerly holding the lyre as his mind decided to forget every single melody he'd ever learned. Blushing even more, he decided to just let fate decide and allowed his fingers to begin plucking at the strings.

To his surprise, he'd begun playing an old melody from his childhood—a Sheikah travelling song, meant to be sung on the open road. The melody was playful and jaunty, masking the inherent sadness to not having a home to call their own—instead, the road, and by extension, the whole world, was their home. Every turn and curve hid an adventure; new lands to explore and people to meet.

At some point he'd started singing, the ancient words drifting from his lips. Link probably didn't understand them, but he seemed enraptured anyway. He'd sat next to Sheik on the bed, listening intently.

It had been years since he'd last thought of this, and Sheik wondered if his childhood self had ever understood that the song, despite its playful melody and quick tempo, was actually a lament for his people's lack of a proper home, a land to call their own. He probably hadn't—to him it had just been a fun song, promising adventure and excitement.

The last note rang out, and his voice (shaky and anything but pleasant to listen to) faded. His cheeks felt hot. Link's ears had probably started bleeding at some point.

"I'm not much of a singer, I admit," he said, turning to look at the Hylian, whose wide eyes were staring right back him.

_So damn blue,_ he thought.

"I think you sound lovely," Link replied with not a hint of a lie, his hand suddenly having found its way to the nape of Sheik's neck, gently stroking the sensitive skin in a way that almost had Sheik shivering with delight.

_Where the hell did he learn_ that _?_

"You flatter me," Sheik said, trying to look away in embarrassment, but Link's hold prevented him from doing so.

"I'm just being honest," Link muttered, leaning closer until his breath was ghosting over Sheik's lips. A delightful blush had appeared on his cheeks, surely mirroring Sheik's own. "I want to kiss you, Sheik," he whispered. "Can I?"

This would hardly be their first kiss, but it still felt like it. Sheik nodded dumbly, not really trusting his ability to form words at the moment. Link grinned before leaning the rest of the way, letting their lips touch. First gently, with a few pecks, and then more sensually, melding them against each other.

Link's other hand took the lyre out of Sheik's hands, gently putting it on the floor, before finding its way to his hip, pulling him a little closer. It made Sheik become acutely aware of their difference in size. Link was taller and had a lot more muscle than him. He felt quite small, compared to the Ordonian...and that was...surprisingly fine.

Suddenly, he found himself on his back, staring up at Link's face, which was such a deep shade of red it made Sheik wonder if there was any blood left in the rest of his body. He was being held down, but carefully. Then Link's lips were on his neck, and he had no time to bite back the moan that erupted from his mouth.

"Is that...good?" Link asked, a hand roaming Sheik's side as he licked and nibbled at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"V...very," Sheik stuttered. How the hell had Link figured this out? His weak points, the bits that would have him mewling like...like...

Realisation struck him at that moment, and he stiffened under Link, jaw clenching.

_Lor...you're a dead man,_ he thought.

"Want me to stop?" Link said, sounding nervous. Worried he'd done something wrong, obviously.

"If you stop," Sheik muttered after a moment, pulling him closer, "I'll kill you."


	39. The Language Lesson

To say Kafei was relieved when Elenwe first opened her eyes after being under for nearly a week would be an understatement. His shoulders, which had spent that week just below his ears, lowered again when he first saw a hint of a gold, corners of her mouth twitching as she returned to the world of the living. Then gold met ruby, and the corners went in a decidedly upward direction.

"Hey, you," he said quietly. "About time you woke up."

"Hey," she replied, voice worn from disuse and sleep. "How...long was I...out?"

His grin grew to foolish proportions at hearing her voice, her beautiful, beautiful voice, again. At his lowest since their return, he had feared he would never hear it again...and that was a world he had no intention of living in. "Not long," he said. "Just...oh, a week and day."

"A week?!" her hoarse voice called out as she attempted to sit up. Her body, still healing, protested immensely, and she winced. Groaning, she made to hold her bruised stomach...and became aware that only one hand was responding. Looking down, she noticed... "M...my arm..."

Kafei touched her shoulder, gently pushing her to lie back down. "I'm sorry," he said. "There was no way to save it...the doctor tried her best, but it was either that or lose _you_...and Impa authorised it." He paused, watching her as she closed her eyes, thinking and breathing deeply. "E...?"

"There...was no other way?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he said again, wishing he had another answer. "It was all my fault...I should have realised something was off, I should have—it was so obvious, and, and I fucking _froze_ , and—"

"Oi, none of...none of that." Her remaining hand found his shoulder, giving it a pat, before delivering a resounding smack to his cheek. "What have I told you...about saying such things, you stupid boy?" Her fingers then gently kneaded the spot. "It was nobody's fault...couldn't have anticipated it..." Her eyes widened slightly. "Tira, is she...?"

"She's fine," he said quickly. "She snapped me out of it, helped me focus."

She fell back, breathing out in relief. "That's good...some hunt, huh?" She glanced around the infirmary. "We home?"

"Yeah, we reached the pass just in time. It's probably completely snowed shut by now, and it's bound to freeze over in a few days." He sat back in his chair, unsure of what to do with himself and his hands. He felt so...clumsy, like no matter what he did, he'd upset her.

Elenwe was pointedly not looking at the remains of her right arm, her attention focused either on him or the room. The amputation had been done just a few inches above her elbow—apparently that was the lowest undamaged area. So far there were no signs of infection, and that lone made Kafei want to kiss the competent (but very scary) physician. Her assistants, a little mute boy named Tao and a young Hylian woman called Hilda, were more approachable, and had kindly kept him company while he waited for her to heal enough.

"By the skin of our teeth, huh?" She cleared her throat, and he helped her drink some water from a cup by the bed. "So...a week?"

"They kept you asleep," he said. "To minimise the chance of moving around too much and reopening the wound. There were no infections, so the doctor finally cleared you."

Her eyes lit up a little as she remembered something. "By the way...you said 'her' and 'doctor'," she said slowly. "Did we get a new doctor? What about Angen?"

"Angen's gone. He left shortly after we did, and was caught in a storm on his way out of the pass. He drowned."

"Oh...and this new doctor?"

"Her name is Kaura."

Their heads snapped to the hanging cloth that separated Elenwe's bed from the rest of the infirmary—the only amount of privacy offered by the small space. It was turned aside as the subject of the conversation strode in, giving Kafei an icy glare.

"You're in my seat, boy."

He scrambled to vacate it, practically plastering himself against the wall in an attempt to be as little in the way as possible. He'd already suffered her wrath once by being a general nuisance in the infirmary, asking a million questions, and he's rather not be on the receiving end of a gelding, as she'd promised. "Sorry, doctor," he offered.

"Hmph," Kaura said, sitting down and giving Elenwe a quick once-over. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Elenwe remained quiet, and Kafei wished he could become one with the wall when he saw the hunter and doctors' eyes meet...and the game was afoot.

He'd feared this. The atmosphere in the infirmary became tense as Elenwe and Kaura stared at each other in complete silence, bodies ram-rod and at attention. Kafei had seen this before—when two lycanthropes fought over territory, or tried to establish dominance...or just plain hated each other. It all began with staring...then the teeth and claws would follow. He almost expected growling—at least from Elenwe (usually he didn't mind that, but only in more...intimate settings).

Elenwe's eyes narrowed. Kaura clenched her fists.

A pair of shoulders rose, a mouth twitched.

Kafei wondered if he should play dead.

Then, to his surprise, they seemed to come to an Understanding, and Elenwe's posture sagged. "Tired...and my arm hurts." She coughed, instinctively trying to cover her mouth with her right hand, which could have been comical had it not been for the stricken expression on her face when she realised what she was doing.

Kaura helped her drink some more water, giving her patient a soft look. "It will take some time to get used to that, I'm afraid. The exhaustion is natural—your body is working hard to heal the damage, and the drug I used to keep you asleep is quite slow to leave your system. I can't do much about the fatigue, but I can give you some laudanum for the pain, you'd like."

Elenwe shook her head. "No, I don't want to my senses to dull even more," she said, hesitating a little as she looked at the stump willingly for the first time. Her eyebrows rose, confusion clear on her face.

"Is something the matter?" Kaura asked. "Are you sure you don't want the laudanum?"

"It's...it's probably nothing," Elenwe said carefully. "But...I can still feel...I can still feel the arm. My fingers...I'm moving them...it hurts, but they're moving, but they're not there..."

The physician nodded slowly. "Yes, that is a common sensation after the recent loss of a limb. Phantom pain, is what the medical science calls it. The brain is rather strange thing, and it's easy to confuse it. It still believes the arm is there, which is why you _think_ you can still feel it." She sighed.

"Will it go away?" the hunter asked.

"I wish I could say that with certainty," Kaura replied, voice regretful. "But it varies from person to person. Some never experience the condition at all, while others have it last days, weeks, months...for a few unfortunates, it never goes away at all, I'm afraid. I'd advise you not to think about it, to ignore it, but that's easier said than done, I imagine."

"I see..."

"It's a lot to take in, I know, but the sooner you can accept what has happened, the sooner you can move on."

Elenwe didn't say anything to that, only nodding.

"Now, I would like to take a look at the wound, as well as do a more thorough physical examination, for which we will need privacy." She aimed a scathing look at Kafei at the last part, which ripped the purple-haired Sheikah from the blissful land of No Doctor Kauras and back into reality, and he nodded.

"Wait," Elenwe said, reaching out to him. As he approached, she made an annoyed grunt and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into a rough, chapped kiss...and Kafei had never felt happier. They gasped a little as they separated, and he found himself on the receiving end of a golden glare. "What kind of husband are you, waiting so long to give your wife a damned kiss?" she asked before smacking on the arse. "Now shoo!"

He laughed at that, happy that Elenwe still had that scathing tongue despite the accident. If that had been gone as well...

He left the infirmary, and nearly ran straight into his cousin, whose hand was raised to knock on the door. He gave Kafei a little smile.

"Cousin," he said. "Good to see you up and about."

Closing the door behind him, Kafei tried not to flush as he remembered the way he'd acted on the night of their return, when Elenwe had been in surgery. He'd been so damn lucky that the pistol had been unloaded. Who knows what would've happened if it weren't. That was not the reunion with Sheik he'd imagined.

"Thank you," he said, giving Sheik a once-over. "You've grown," he said.

"I certainly hope so," Sheik said with a snort. "I'm tired of being the shortest around here."

"Well, with the exception of Tao, I think that's still the case."

Sheik scowled, leaning his back against the wall. "And you're still an arsehole, I see, even when sober." He pointed at Kafei's ear. "Not sure if you remember, so, again, congratulations."

"I did ask Impa to inform you when she visited Hyrule, but evidently that was something she conveniently forgot." Now it was his turn to scowl. "Or perhaps she's still embarrassed about Elenwe foiling her breeding plan for me."

"That's harsh," Sheik said. "Perhaps she simply forgot?"

Kafei gave him a suspicious look. "Since when were you so quick to jump to her defence?"

"I'm not, but she had a lot on her mind at the time—a pair of lycans showed up in Castle Town. I suppose that took precedence over your wedding." Sheik shrugged. "Either way, I know now, and I'm happy for you." He looked at the infirmary door. "How is she? I heard they were waking her up today..."

"She's fine...all things considered." Kafei thought back to the look on Elenwe's face as she moved the fingers that were no longer there. "I'm sure she'd appreciate a visit when the doctor's done with her." He couldn't hide a slight wince at the word "doctor", and Sheik gave him a sympathetic glance, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"I take it you've gotten acquainted with Kaura, then?"

"Acquainted? Damn near murdered by." He lowered his voice at that part, hoping the Terminan's hearing wasn't _that_ good. "She didn't appreciate me staying in the infirmary until they woke E up."

"Don't take it personally," Sheik said. "She's like that with everyone. You should have been there after she patched me up in Kaerwall—"

"Wait, Kaerwall?" Kafei's eyes widened. He'd thought there was something familiar about the name, but he couldn't place it. "She's the one who...?"

"The very same."

"Damn."

"Hm?"

"Now I owe her _two_ debts," Kafei groaned, slapping his forehead and glaring at Sheik when the younger began laughing. He looked at Sheik once more, studying the burn on his cousin's cheek. "How did you come by that?" he asked.

"I already told you once," Sheik said, chuckling. "Though with the state you were in, I'm not surprised you don't remember the details. Hunt gone awry in Termina. Turns out that Controllers have highly acidic blood. Wish I'd known that before I opened one up."

"Controllers...yes, I remember you mentioning those. Extinct, weren't they?"

"Apparently not, if this is anything to go by." Sheik pointed at the burn. "It looked far worse before Kaura treated it. Prickly personality aside, she is absolutely brilliant at what she does."

"Oh, I don't doubt that—but I will certainly not be running to her for every little boo-hoo. Life-threatening injuries only." Sheik ducked his head, trying to keep the laughter in, which exposed his neck...and a very conspicuous and familiar mark there, just above the junction of his shoulder and neck. His eyes lit up...and Sheik realised what was happening.

"No, don't—"

"Well, well, well," Kafei said, marching up to his cousin and trapping him against the wall, pulling his collar down to get a better look at the hickey. "Has my dear cousin been up to no good? And at the Studio, no less? Right under the nose of our dear clan leader, master, and aunt, even?" He chuckled, absolutely excited about this. Sheik had always been so prim and proper whenever he stayed at the Studio, never engaging in something Impa wouldn't approve of. If he was canoodling with someone here...the only thing that would make it better would be if it were with a non-Sheikah! "Who is it? Someone I know?"

Sheik yanked his collar back up, glaring at him. "None of your business—"

"Oh, on the contrary, it is definitely my business, as the closest thing you have to an older brother. Who has their sights set on my dear cousin's innocence? It's not Nirit, is it? Because she's an utter witc—"

"It's not Nirit," Sheik said quickly, finding the idea of even kissing the slightly older Sheikah utterly repulsive. Besides, she was hung up on someone else, though she'd refused to say who.

"Then who? A Sheikah?"

Sheik looked away. "No..."

Kafei's heart positively fluttered. This was too good for words. Impa would have conniptions at this rate, if all her blood relatives went against her wishes in terms of partners. "Then who?" he pressed on. "Eteile? Ayla? Oh, please tell me it's a Gerudo, that would just be _fantastic_!"

"...not a Gerudo," Sheik said, his face turning redder and redder by the second.

Kafei hummed. "Hm, not a Sheikah, not a Gerudo...would it piss our dear aunt off?"

Sheik hesitated. "Possibly, but...not for the reasons you think..."

"So...a Hylian, then? Well, that can't be so bad in her mind—I mean, that's where the clan is from, and we've certainly interbred with them before, so..." He quickly went through the list of hunters he had in his head, singling out every Hylian girl he knew to be stationed at the Studio...and quickly realised something. "But...every Hylian here is either married or far too old, to..." The realisation struck like a sledgehammer, and his jaw fell open. " _No_...it's a man?"

Sheik didn't even need to respond for Kafei to know he'd struck gold, from the way his eyes refused to meet Kafei's. His grin grew so much it felt like his face would split in half. Oh, this was better than he could have _dreamed_! Elenwe wakes up, and Sheik reveals that his choice of partner was the exact opposite of what their tyrant of a relative wanted, all in one day?

"It's not funny, you know," Sheik muttered. "Impa will kill me if she finds out."

"Oh, my dear cousin, sweet little brother," Kafei said, draping an arm over Sheik's shoulder. "Impa would never do that—she'll talk very sternly at you and make you run laps around the Studio until you throw up, but kill you? Nah, she'd save that for me—I'm the expendable one, after all—and _I_ married a Gerudo; the _enemy_! Oh, she won't be happy about the Hylian bit, and definitely not the _man_ bit, but what's the worst she can do? Make you tell stories about your escapades with this mystery man during meals? I'd certainly enjoy that—"

"Get off me, you waste of a soul-shaped hole," Sheik growled, pushing him away. "What I do on my own time, and who with, is no one's business!"

"Ah, but it certainly is to those who want to ensure you're treated well," he said, waggling his finger. "So...who is it? Tell me. Tellmetellmetellmetellme."

"Yes, that definitely makes me want to tell you."

"Aw, come on, cuz. Don't leave me in the dark!" Kafei paused, briefly shuddering as a thought struck him...that also made him slightly murderous. "It's not that bastard Iteos, is it? Did he force you into something? I swear, I will _skin_ the fucker if he's—"

"No, it's not bloody Iteos," Sheik huffed. "I'd rather kiss a poisonous snake—besides, he's not Hylian."

Oh, right. The Red Knight was from Lumina, of course. A human, and a disgrace to his race. Arsehole deserved being stuck in the watchtower all winter, as far as Kafei was concerned.

"Hm, then we don't have a lot of other options..." It only took a moment to sift through what news he'd been told since arriving, and the answer became so painfully obvious he was almost ashamed he hadn't seen it right away. "Ah...so, fallen for the dashing new recruit, have we?"

"You can't tell anyone," Sheik said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But I wanted to be the one to tell Impa," Kafei whined. "The look on her face would be _glorious_!"

"With any luck, she won't find out. Ever," Sheik hissed. "She can't know. Not until I'm far away back in Hyrule, at least."

Kafei pretended to be disappointed a little longer, before nodding. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, Sheik." He drew the younger Sheikah into a light hug. "Though I will have to meet this young man properly to give him my blessing—"

"And I think we're done here," Sheik growled, walking away, his reason for coming to the infirmary in the first place forgotten. "Tell someone about this and I will kill you."

Kafei waved him away, chuckling. "Such a violent family, this one."

* * *

"Looks well-defended."

Ascal fought the urge to roll his eyes at Art's comment. "Yes, that is rather the point of a fortress, isn't it?" he asked. "Though I will say this, it looks a lot better than it did the last time I was here."

They ducked down behind the large snowdrift they were observing the Studio from. Ascal had decided to give Art the grand tour of this godsforsaken pass, which basically amounted to the distant view of Whiteridge, the watchtower, and now the walls of the Studio itself. It was not the most exciting day.

Ascal tightened the scar around his face, leaving only a small strip visible for him to see through. The sun usually wasn't too much of a bother this time of year, but up here, with the light reflecting and amplifying off the snow, he'd felt the burn as soon as the storm subsided.

"So, what do we do?" Art asked, looking absolutely beside himself with excitement. As usual. He looked perfectly content to sit in the snow for a while. "Can't take that place alone—even with a vamp."

Ascal had objected to that particular moniker, but Art had stuck to it with uncharacteristic stubbornness. He had a feeling it was a form of revenge for having nearly frozen to death when crossing the mountains, referring to him with irreverence because it, despite having thought himself above all that, annoyed Ascal quite a bit. Sometimes, the urge to twist the man's head off seized him, but he fought that down since Ascal needed him...at least for now. Perhaps there would be an opportunity for head-twisting later, when all was said and done.

"You are indeed correct when making that statement," Ascal deadpanned. "What was I thinking, when I planned for the two of us to storm the gates like heroes of old?"

"Stuck in the past?"

"That's not funny."

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Don't know you it's rude to ask someone's age?"

"Only if they're women." Art looked back over the drift. "They've got a cannon," he noted.

"They've got several," Ascal said, pointing at a series of barrels placed at strategic places on the rooftops. "Clearly, the current Master Hunter has chosen to invest quite a bit in defensive measures. A bit strange, really, since no one could ever be bothered to bring an army up here."

"Never hurts to be sure," Art pointed out.

"True," Ascal conceded. "Anyway, that's all things that are worth to see in this place; I hope you enjoyed it."

"Sure did, boss," Art said. "Now what? Got a plan?"

"Two, actually," Ascal said happily. "But one depends on the other. We will begin with the watchtower. I hope you're up for a climb."

"Always."

* * *

Lor looked down at the sheet of mathematical calculations he'd copied over as neat as he could. Compared to the almost illegible scratchings he found difficult to even _call_ handwriting in the original notebook, his writing was practically art.

He wondered how the twins, for all their genius, were seemingly incapable of touching a pen or pencil to paper without the result becoming an utter eyesore. Especially Ard, whose sketches were utterly amazing. True, Lor hadn't seen that many illustrations of internal organs and complicated machinery, but he was quite sure Ard's were among the finest in the world (in his opinion, at least...he could certainly stare at them for hours—especially the ones related to anatomy).

And yet, whenever the taciturn twin wrote down the results of his experiments, what he produced was enough to induce headaches when looked at too closely. If Lor had believed Ayla's suggestion was just a joke at first, he'd quickly thought otherwise when Erd introduced him to the large number of volumes that practically needed _translation_ into legible writing.

Still, that sometimes resulted in him not being sure that he was actually copying it correctly. When Erd was around, that was not a problem. The jovial twin was more than happy to drop what he was doing to do a quick inspection and confirm that he was on the right track. When only Ard was available, however...

It didn't really help that everyone assured him that Ard acted like he did with everyone he liked or felt neutral towards. No matter how many times he was told this, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ard had something against him. Whenever he looked up from his work, he was almost guaranteed to catch Ard in the act of staring at him. Or _glaring_ , more like. Had he done something to upset him, or was it just one of those situations where there was no rational reason for disliking someone—Ard just couldn't stand him or his presence.

He looked over the copied page once more, and then at the original. The brothers were equally horrid at writing, but it was still easy to distinguish which of them had written what. Erd's writing was strangely slanted towards the right, all straight edges and angles. Ard's letters and numbers, however, were nothing _but_ curves, but somewhat twisted, like there was something in the middle of the paper drawing everything towards it in a spiral pattern. It honestly sometimes made Lor dizzy to look at, and what was wrong with Ard in order for... _that_ to look perfectly normal to him.

The calculations looked all right, but some of the numbers and letters were difficult to decipher. In this case, he couldn't tell whether he was looking at the number one, or a lowercase L. He glanced up, realising with dismay that Erd was still gone, having gone to speak with Impa about something half an hour earlier, which left Ard as the only one who could inspect it...and the twin in question looked to be quite busy, tinkering with the strange machine that, apparently, could generate lightning bolts. The twins had lauded it as a scientific miracle with a million applications, but Lor just found it frightening. Perhaps it could be useful, but surely it was dangerous as well?

As if it heard his thoughts, the infernal machine gave off a mighty spark, and Ard yelped, jumping back and shaking his hand. He cursed and kicked his chair. "...stupid..." he muttered, glaring at the generator, though whether the word was directed at the machine or himself was unclear.

Oh, good, Lor thought. Now he's in an even worse mood. What an opportune moment to ask for help.

Nevertheless, he cleared his throat, breaking Ard out of his (likely) inward cursing and drawing his attention. "What?" he asked, tone anything but friendly.

"Um, I'm having some trouble with Erd's handwriting," Lor said sheepishly, trying not to squirm too much under the weight of Ard's gaze. "Could you take a look? I can't tell if it's a number or a letter I'm looking at it."

Ard's eyes narrowed, but he grunted and came over to Lor's desk. "Where?"

"Here." Lor pointed at the equation. "Is that a one, or...?"

"Letter," Ard said, snorting. "Doesn't make sense otherwise."

"Oh...okay. Thank you."

"Hn," Ard said...surprising Lor by not immediately retreating to his side of the lab, like he usually did. Instead, he sat down in the chair to Lor's right, pulling the original notebook towards himself. Noticing Lor's confused face, he shrugged. "He never asked me to double-check the calculations—he's bad at maths." He wrinkled his brow at his brother's handwriting, gesturing at the copy, which Lor handed over. His face smoothed over as he clearly found Lor's writing easier to read.

That was...oddly satisfying. Lor stamped that feeling right down. He was doing his job, and that alone should be enough to feel good about his efforts—not Ard's approval...or as close to approval as the white-haired man could show.

To distract himself from that (and how close Ard was sitting to him), he focused on the next set of equations and notes. It was a rather long essay on the possible reasons for silver being so effective against many of the beasts that hunters faced. Lycanthropes were only one species among many that had an adverse reaction to being exposed to the metal.

The theory the writer (Erd) had most faith in was the beasts in question having some sort of common ancestor, so far back in history no one could remember...or had been around to see, and therefore all shared the same genetic weakness to silver...though he also admitted it did not explain certain species of undead having the same weakness, since these were created by disease and sickness rather than coming into existence the, er, natural way. Lycanthropes, for example, were created through infection rather than being born.

It was actually quite interesting, though a lot of the information depended on prior knowledge to the various monsters that existed and the science behind several of the hunters' tactics and weapons, which he did not have. Perhaps he could borrow one of Link's books, once he was done with them...unless it was knowledge the hunters wanted to remain secret, for whatever reason.

He took break from his copying, and noticed a lack of activity at his side. Turning his head, he found a pair of intensely green eyes staring at him. Their breaths intermingled, sitting so close to each other.

Lor was a professional. He'd been in intimate situations for as long as he could remember, and yet this... He felt his face heating up, and he quickly leaned back, away from Ard, clearing his throat. "Oh, I, er...sorry..."

Ard stood and, uncertainly, gestured towards Lor's copies. "...good work. Actually legible...er...keep it up." And with the most awkward little half-bow, the scientist left the lab, leaving Lor alone, wondering what the hell had just happened. And whether the blush on Ard's cheeks had been a figment of his imagination or not.

As he caught his breath, Lor happened to look down...and noticed that Ard had apparently been drawing while he'd been...doing whatever it was. Lor had been in so deep in Erd's research he hadn't noticed, but now... More anatomy sketches, it seemed. Or, portraits, actually. Portraits of...of...

The facial features were spot on, but he couldn't be sure until he saw the very familiar black mark on the model's cheek. The same he had on his own.

"He...was drawing me?" he thought out loud, fascinated at the accuracy and variety of expressions Ard had managed to capture with a mere pencil.

Perhaps it was a bit unfair, but it wasn't difficult to land on the same conclusion he'd jump to if he were looking at the event from the outside...like, if it were Sheik sketching Link...it would have been too obvious. But...all his other interactions with Ard had been so...misleading. Maybe...maybe Ard just found Lor's face more interesting than others because of his tattoo? And the blush was simply embarrassment from being caught staring so intently for drawing purposes? That was just as likely, really...

But what if it were the first reason? He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't struck him. The twins were far from bad-looking...but every time Lor had any sort of...erotic thoughts, he was also reminded of his treatment at the hands of Ascal's men, and that...

He shut that train of thought down immediately, before his throat began closing up. He still had nightmares that Link had to wake him from.

But where did that leave him? He didn't really know Ard...but if he was attracted...

His forehead hit the desk with a slam, and he groaned loudly. Why him? Why was it _always_ him? Did the Goddesses of old truly hate him so much?

"That was an unhappy groan," Erd said, suddenly sitting beside him, right where Ard had been earlier. "Have my brother been his usual self? That's usually enough to induce sounds like that."

"No, this is something else," Lor replied, not looking up at him. "But it does involve your brother."

Might as well be honest, Lor figured. Erd might be able to help.

Erd hummed, and Lor heard the rustle of paper being shuffled around. A short intake of breath. "Ah, I assume these are the reasons for your consternation."

"Why is your brother drawing me, Erd?" Lor asked, looking up at him. "It's the tattoo, isn't it? Is it the design? What it means? What is it?"

Erd looked stunned, and then he laughed. Loudly. "Oh...oh, this is wonderful," he said, trying to catch his breath. "This is just excellent!"

"By all means, do feel free to share your breakthrough."

"I'm not sure I want to, if only to watch the show," Erd said, but placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "All right, I suppose it was inevitable. Let me give you a quick lesson in how to speak Ard..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There WILL be plot in the next chapter, I swear!


	40. The Proposal

Having made many, many mistakes—big and small—in his relatively short life, Iteos would still not find it difficult to name what he considered his biggest one. Or, rather, two, as they were rather connected in that one led to the other.

The first mistake, and the root of all his current problems, was the contract. Every sense that had kept him alive on the streets and in the dormitories had _screamed_ at him that it was a mistake to accept it...and yet, he had ignored them, and swallowed the bait whole. The fee had simply been too high to pass up, despite that being the reason why he shouldn't have taken it to begin with. No one, no matter how good they were at their job, was paid that much for a single job. Not even in Iteos' business. The relative simplicity had been the other factor—no more than a night's work, and he'd have enough to retire.

So many times had he laughed at the ways his predecessors and upperclassmen had met their ends, always pulled in by that one job, the one client who'd greased their wheels with just the right kind of oil: money. Iteos had been different. He'd _never_ fall for such a simple trick, such an obvious ruse. The very thought had been enough to make him laugh. He had something his colleagues lacked: pride in his work. A desire to be the best. Ambition. He would rise to the top, become known and feared to all—only degenerates fell for traps where the object of enticement was purely financial. He was above it all.

However, in the end, he too fell victim to his own greed. And he paid for it dearly. His target had been quite important, after all, and she had far-reaching hands; across borders and countries, across oceans and mountains.

In the end, he'd only had one option, one guaranteed way of protection, and one he was loath to take.

The hunters had been all-too-willing to take him in based on his experience (with a few details left out, of course)—their jobs were very similar, after all, and there was a _lot_ of crossover in their skills and abilities. And they did not ask for much of his past...well, not in words, at least, and that was good enough for him. Of course, the blood-eyes never trusted him—they trust no one but their own—but the other outsiders embraced him as a brother, at first...and so he was protected. No one who mattered dared touch him when they knew what he was; who he belonged to.

And that was good. For a time.

He'd never realised that a hunter remained one for life—however short that may be. He'd traded one set of deadly secrets for another, and he was quite sure that of all potential enemies in the world, the hunters would be the one foe he'd never be able to shake or fight off. He'd seen what they did to those who broke their oaths, or gave in to their...baser desires after a long life. The beasts got far better treatment...

Miserable as he was with his current plight, Iteos was more attached to the concept of living, and he was not willing to change his set of priorities just yet. Not when there was still time. Seven years, now, he'd spent his winters in this miserable hellhole. He was not yet thirty. Yes, _plenty_ of time.

It was just a matter of coming up with a plan. A good one. One that would, essentially, turn back the clock. Or just eliminate his perceived existence from the perspectives of others altogether. He needed a way to start over, and he found that it was far more difficult to find a way to accomplish that than he'd expected. Giving up would not occur to him any time soon—all problems had a solution. It was just a matter of finding it, and Iteos was no fool. He'd never have survived the college, if he were.

Still, nights like these were trying even for his special brand of patience, and he had to actively fight his desire to launch his fellow watchmen out the closest window. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that it would only be a temporary solution—there would be questions and accusations if two of three hunters stationed in the watchtower were found broken and mangled at the bottom of the gully below a shattered window. If possible, he wanted his exit from the brotherhood to a little subtler. Trails of bodies were the opposite of subtle.

The storm had passed, and while the lack of swaying in the tower that would have the most experienced of sailors clinging to the floor and vomiting profusely was a blessing, it meant that his fellow watchmen were now back to their usual bickering. It was good-natured, of course, which made it even worse. They were about one cookie-stealing accusation away from hurling each other into bed, and _that_ was not a show Iteos was particularly willing to overhear. Gods save him from Gerudo with overactive libidos...

When Rayla finally began giving Renini the bedroom eyes, Iteos rolled his, standing up from his chair by the stove. He earmarked the page of his book (a horror story he strongly suspected was written by a former hunter, what with how realistic it was in terms of monster descriptions) and retrieved his coat and a book of matches. "I'm going for a smoke," he announced loudly to the pair of undressing Gerudo, quickly climbing down the ladder leading to the ground floor.

"Good, don't want you stinking up the place!" Rayla called after him.

"Unlike what you'll be doing," he muttered under his voice. He undid the impressive array of locks and bolts that kept the watchtower secure from intruders and emerged into the dark, freezing night. He walked about ten paces away from the door, tucking himself up against a small, rocky outcropping that sheltered him from the worst of the wind, and lit up a cigarette.

It was a small, but much-needed comfort, up here. This place was bad enough when staying at the fortress, but the watchtower was that last straw that broke some proverbial animal's back. It hadn't broken Iteos just yet, but if he went the rest of his life without seeing that stupid pile of rocks he would die a happy man.

He hated the cold. He hated the hunt. He hated the lack of recognition bringing down a dangerous beast brought him. Thankless, exhausting work, this was. The money wasn't even good—only enough to keep up with equipment maintenance and a small stipend for food and lodgings. At the college, a single job would keep him with food, clothes, and little knickknacks for weeks—sometimes months.

A public service, Impa called it. And necessary. Who else but them could keep the monsters and beasts out there from overrunning the world?

Proper armies, Iteos would argue, but she had refuted that with examples of entire nations succumbing to lycans before the brotherhood came into existence. Kingdoms falling to disease that brought the dead back to life (well, not really, but they might as well be dead)...armies had proven utterly incapable of fighting off such things, because armies were made to fight other armies, not monsters. Not diseases. If anything, disease became more prevalent wherever armies went, bringing their filth with them.

He could perhaps concede to that, but the look she'd given him while saying it...like he wasn't worth the explanation. She knew what he'd been before coming to the Studio. She didn't have the luxury of turning him down, but she knew...and despised him for it. Well, the loathing was mutual, both because of who and _what_ she was. The last bit was a little irrational, he supposed, but he'd yet to meet a Sheikah he'd actually liked. So prim and proper, so serious...and with such fucking superiority complexes it wasn't even funny. It spoke a lot of their people when the only good examples of them he'd found were the clan-less, half-breed bastards he'd sometimes encountered in his old life.

He'd killed them, of course, since they were usually his targets, but still...he'd take their company over that of Impa or Mana any day. He could make an exception for Hafthor, he supposed, but only because the brute knew how to fix his mechanical wrist blade.

Iteos took another drag off his cigarette and looked down at the blade in question. Concealed within the leather bracer on his right forearm, it was activated with a flick of movement. Pulling the wrist back caused the blade to slide out and lock into place. Fully extended, it reached just past his middle finger; an inch wide and razor-sharp, tapering to a fine point. Perfect for piercing someone's throat or sliding between ribs. It had been a most useful tool in his old life—surprisingly adaptable to that of a hunter's. He imagined that, with a little lesson in fashion, a hunter could easily make it through the college.

He flicked his wrist, and the blade emerged. He studied it for a moment, and then sheathed it. He repeated the action a few times, testing the mechanism.

It was only after so many years of fighting to stay alive that he heard it. Even over the howling of the wind that perpetually blew through the pass, he heard the sound of snow crunching beneath a booth. Flicking the cigarette away so the smouldering tip wouldn't give him away, he crouched down in the outcrop, hoping that his dark coat would camouflage him a little against the rocky surface.

No such luck.

"Ah, I had a feeling about you," an unfamiliar voice said, smooth and cheerful but still quiet enough for only Iteos to hear. "The blade was a bit of a giveaway, of course, but that movement...definitely school-taught." Without warning, a shape appeared in front of the outcropping. The man wore hunter garb—long coat, a pair of pistols, a fencing blade, and a top hat (of all things). Iteos did not recognise him, so he remained on the defensive.

"Who are you?" he asked, wondering if he'd be able to reach the knife strapped to his lower back before the stranger could react. He doubted it—they watched him closely, like a cat waiting to pounce.

"Ascal's the name," the stranger said, dipping his head. "At your service." He studied Iteos for a moment. "And yours?"

"Iteos," Iteos replied, noticing a second shape a few steps away. A common thug, judging by his stance, but still dangerous enough if Ascal's skills matched his appearance.

"A pleasure," Ascal said, smiling. His eyes, lit by the moonlight, shone eerily in the dark. "I must say, I am curious as to how one of Missus Miggins' boys found his way up here, of all places. Not really your line of work, is it?"

"Extenuating circumstances," Iteos said smoothly. "And you? You're clearly a hunter, but I do not recognise you or your voice."

The man behind Ascal grunted, and Ascal sighed.

"Apologies, I was quite rude. "This is my loyal companion, Arthur. He prefers Art. As for who I am...well, my past is as muddled as yours, I imagine. Suffice to say, I was once a hunter...but no more."

"Then how are you still alive?" Iteos asked. "The hunters don't take kindly to deserters."

"True," Ascal agreed. "But when the cost of killing me outweighs that of keeping hunters alive, they tend to become quite frugal."

Iteos nodded slowly. That confirmed his suspicion. The hunters did not just let you walk away from your oaths...but make the act of taking you down too costly, and they were content to leave you in peace...or so he hoped. He didn't much like the idea of fighting them, himself, so he'd still have to find a better way for himself.

That said, the supposed hunter before him had clearly not been stationed at the Studio—he'd have known about him otherwise. Ascal didn't seem that old—around thirty, perhaps, from what Iteos could see of his face behind the collar—but Iteos had never heard his name or about a hunter leaving the Studio in the past decade. So the name was probably fake, and he was a Studio hunter. Perhaps one of the other workshops had once housed him.

"So," he said, "having escaped once already, why are you back?"

"Just a little job for my current employer," Ascal replied, leaning against the rocky wall, looking perfectly relaxed, like he wasn't expecting Iteos to attack...or for the Gerudo in the tower to notice them.

Granted, the chances of those two noticing anything out of the ordinary when they were wrapped up in each other were decidedly less than zero, but still...

"And what is this job?" he asked. If he could stall, he could find a way out. Ascal's stooge would probably not offer much of a fight, but Ascal himself...he was dangerous. He could almost _smell_ it.

"I'm not at liberty to say to anyone but my partners," Ascal replied, raking his eyes over Iteos. He knew how ready the hunter was to spring at him, but did not seem particularly bothered by this.

"There are more of you?"

"Not at the moment—I was hoping to recruit another."

"Who?"

Ascal gave him a brilliant smile. "Why, you, of course," he said. "I've been watching you, Mister Iteos. You are not fond of this life. You are definitely not fond of spending your time in this tower, with the Gerudo. I could see your excitement when you realised I got out—meaning you also have a chance to leave. I'm here to offer you that chance."

Iteos was no fool. He wouldn't have been alive if he were. He knew offers like these were, at best, full of caveats and conditions, and the slightest deviation from what was expected of him was liable to end with a bullet in his skull. He'd accepted similar offers before—and he'd never failed. Still, this was...too convenient. Besides, even if he left the hunters, there was still...

"Men like you, Mister Iteos," Ascal continued, as if sensing Iteos' thoughts, "do not end up as hunters without good reason. Missus Miggins' boys make enemies rather easily...would I be wrong in assuming you made one powerful enough to necessitate your...recruitment into the brotherhood?"

Iteos said nothing. Ascal still grinned.

"If you are willing to help us, I can offer you protection."

Iteos snorted at that. "No one else can protect me from _her_."

"Give me a chance," Ascal said simply. "My employer holds great power in Hyrule. And, besides, if you help me here...I can make Iteos the Assassin disappear forever, presumed dead. Come with us, and start a new life in a new land. Isn't that what you truly want?" He held out a hand, offering it to Iteos.

It was too good to be true. Like his last contract, the one that brought him to this place, to this life. Too good to be true...but...a new start?

Perhaps his priorities needed a little re-shuffling. He could stay here, stay alive...and miserable. Or he could risk helping this unknown factor, Ascal, and the opportunity to become someone else entirely...

...never let it be said that Iteos was afraid of making changes.

Nodding slowly, he took Ascal's gloved hand with his, shaking it firmly. "What would you have me do?" he asked.

"When does your watch up here end?"

"Three weeks, or thereabouts. Maybe four. Why?"

"For now, I simply need a man on the inside of the Studio." Ascal drew a nasty-looking _kukri_ from a holster on his thigh. "When the time comes, however..."

Neither of the Gerudo noticed that Iteos was outside for more than an hour, nor that he had a strange look on his face for the rest of the evening. He simply sat in his chair by the stove, book in his hand, and eyes staring unseeing at the pages, his mind racing as he planned how to best accomplish his objectives. All he had to do was wait for the signal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this?! Plot?!


	41. The Reveal

Link's head exploded, and he shuddered as he rode out his release, nearly bucking into Sheik's mouth. Only the Sheikah's firm hold on his hips kept him still, and then standing when his body became boneless at the end, a feeling of utter contentment slowly settling in every fibre of his being. Panting, he wordlessly praised Sheik for the performance by yanking the Sheikah to his feet and kissing him roughly, tasting himself on Sheik's tongue. The look on the younger's face—all red and sweaty from exertion—was nearly enough to get Link ready for another round, but he doubted he had the energy for it.

"That...that was...wow..." he gasped for breath, leaning forward and resting his forehead on Sheik's shoulder, feeling his deft fingers pull his trousers up and buckling his belt. Link would ask how Sheik was so good at that, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer.

"I take it you enjoyed that?" Sheik asked cheekily, grinning smugly.

"More...than I can ever...describe," Link said, rubbing Sheik's neck and knocking their foreheads together lightly. Of all intimate actions and gestures, he'd quickly learned _that_ was Sheik's favourite, so he'd taken to doing it as often as he could. Drawing back, he kissed Sheik again—gentler, this time. Slowly, their tongues dancing gently rather than ferociously. Drawing the Sheikah close, Link became aware of a rather growing problem further south. "Want me to take care of that?" he asked, cupping Sheik's parts, which drew a slight purr from the younger.

"Much as I'd like that, you have a tracking lesson to get to," Sheik said, pulling back and adjusting Link's clothing so it wasn't _too_ obvious he'd just gotten frisky with his lover.

Link nodded, feeling guilty. For the past few weeks, they'd gotten bolder and bolder with each other, taking whatever it was they had one step at a time...and at Link's pace. He'd been all-too-eager to put Lor's advice to the test, but had realised soon enough that he was out of his league. Sheik had been more than happy to take the lead, with the stipulation that they only take it as far as Link was comfortable with.

Hands and mouths had been as far as they'd gone. Not the...main act, as it were, and Sheik was strangely hesitant to try. To his own surprise, so was Link. Perhaps he was nervous about the act itself, or who would be doing what, or...if it would hurt...either of them, that is. Lor had mentioned that would be a possibility, if either party was nervous or inexperienced or...not that Sheik was inexperienced, but Link wanted it to be good for both of them and...

"Hey," Sheik said gently, tapping the side of Link's head. "I can _hear_ you overthinking it in there. It'll happen when it happens—there is no point in rushing to it. We have all winter." He leaned up and placed a soft kiss on Link's cheek. "And I assure you, it'll be wonderful."

Link sighed, feeling foolish, and gave Sheik a smile of his own. "I know."

"Now," Sheik said, slapping Link's rump, "off you go, or Mana will have your head."

Link mock-saluted and left Sheik's cell, all bundled up and ready for a trek out into the cold. On the way to the Studio entrance, he greeted several hunters who were getting ready for their chores of the day. He'd managed to learn quite a few names at this point, and the ones he hadn't didn't seem to mind. He passed Zelda on the way, who seemed to be having some sort of argument with Tao (and apparently losing) as they carried some supplies to the infirmary. Ayla had been dragged into it, apparently, carrying a much bigger crate than the other two.

"Link, good morning," the princess greeted.

"Good morning," he greeted back. "I can't talk, got a lesson to get to."

"Have fun!"

"It won't be," Ayla said, snickering. "Mana's fierce when she's in her element."

Link didn't like the sound of that, and gulped as he quickly made his way out the main hall and into the courtyard, where Mana was waiting with a trio of horses, one of which he recognised. Epona snorted happily at seeing him again, a fact the Sheikah didn't miss.

"She cares for her rider," she said, handing Link the reins. "Rare, that sort of connection. I hope you appreciate it."

"I do, master," he replied, nodding deeply and patting Epona's muzzle. Every hunter who taught him was a master in their field. Mana taught mostly theory, but her tracking skills were apparently unmatched, and so it was natural that she was to teach him that as well. "The stable hands have been taking good care of her."

"If they hadn't, they wouldn't be working here," Mana said. "The hunters will never be a financially rich group, but we do not spare any expense when it comes to maintaining our equipment or, indeed, our companion animals. Come, we have at least an hour's ride ahead of us, and how long it'll take us to finish depends on you."

"Me?" he asked, climbing into Epona's saddle as the gates were opened, slowly lowering the drawbridge across the frozen river, which gleamed in the early morning sun.

"I have found something for you to track," she replied unhelpfully. "I hope you've been keeping up on the book I gave you."

"Book" was an inadequate word to describe the tome of collected hunter knowledge she'd dumped on him in preparation of learning how to read the signs beasts and other creatures left behind in the wild. It weighed a ton, and was so big it could not fit on his small writing desk in the lecture hall. He swore his spine was slowly bending to side whenever he carried it under his arm.

"I've been reading it," Link said noncommittally. "Gotten to the middle of the canine section...but some of the text is hard to read, it's so smudged."

"Well, then we'll see how you handle what I've found for you. Kafei will be joining us to observe your performance, and assist if any difficulties arise."

As if on cue, the Sheikah in question swaggered through the main doors and swung himself into the saddle of the third horse, nodding to them both. "Mana, Link," he said.

"You're late, boy," Mana sniffed, giving him a critical look.

"Had to say goodbye to the wife," the purple-haired man said, grinning a little wider. "You know how it is—when E wants something, I can never say no."

Mana rolled her eyes and muttered something about young whippersnappers wasting her valuable time, and kicked her heels to get her mount moving. Link and Kafei quickly joined her, riding three paces behind her in formation.

"How is she?" Link asked quietly, his voice nearly lost in the clattering of the horses' hooves on the wooden bridge.

"Still adjusting," Kafei said, giving him a more genuine smile. "She's getting sick of being stuck in bed, though."

Link had faced the pleasure of meeting Sheik's _actual_ cousin and his wife about two weeks after their arrival at the Studio. It had been...interesting. Elenwe had been perfectly pleasant, while Kafei had stared at him with an unreadable look. The chatter had been calm and polite, up until the point Kaura had dragged Sheik aside to discuss something or other, at which point Elenwe—still looking half-dead from exhaustion after her surgery—had taken a good hold of Link's collar, pulled him close, and threatened to destroy him if he ever hurt Sheik. Kafei had said something similar, but he'd settled with giving Link the deadliest glare he'd ever seen—it was worse than _Impa's_ , for Goddesses' sake!

Still, for how scary and exceedingly annoying Kafei could be at times, he was still competent, and definitely a relative of Sheik's...if somewhat less reverent when it came to rules. And remarkably dense, having failed to realise that Zelda—that is, Hilda—was anything but an assistant and student of Kaura's. For all that it was an open secret at the Studio that they were hosting a princess, no one saw fit to inform Kafei, if only for the fun of seeing how long it'd take for him to figure it out. Elenwe had seen it right away, apparently, but her husband...well, it was a good thing Kafei had never thought of taking up detective work.

But hunting was something he excelled at, and so Link was happy to have him at his back...even if, as he suspected, what he was tracking today was anything but dangerous.

"I can imagine," Link agreed. Last he'd seen Elenwe, she was practically vibrating from boredom, confined to the bed in her and Kafei's room.

"And when E's bored, she takes it out on me," Kafei continued ruefully, chuckling. "Do you know how many novels she's started and dictated at me? I can barely bend my wrist; I've written so much."

"What kind of novels?" Link asked curiously.

Kafei blushed at that. "Er...I'll tell you when you're older."

Link snickered. "I see, _that_ kind, huh?"

Kafei only nodded, causing the Hylian to laugh even louder.

"Oi, in the back, focus," Mana's sharp voice snapped ahead. "This isn't some pleasure trip. We're on a hunt, here. Save your frivolities for later."

"Sorry, master," they chorused, leaving their chat for later.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Sheik found Impa at the shooting range, where she was apparently receiving some sniper training from Kiro. He entered just as she aimed a rifle at the furthest target, and fired. There was a loud crack as the bullet slammed into the stone wall just above the target's head.

"Damn," Impa muttered. "Still can't hit it."

"With all due respect, master," Kiro said carefully, "it's your leg. Your stance doesn't account for the recoil properly. If you try standing more like this..." He carefully corrected her stance until she was in optimal firing position. It was a strain on her, Sheik could see. It put weight on a leg that was, to his knowledge, not nearly strong enough anymore. There was a slight tremor to her, the end of the barrel swaying slightly. Then she drew a deep breath, and her entire body stilled. Fire erupted from the barrel, and the target at the end of the range gave a loud ping,

"Hm, an improvement, I'd say," Impa muttered, sagging slightly. She adjusted her stance so her weight was on the healthy leg, and leaned against the rifle like a crutch. "But still not good enough."

"Sniping is a different beast entirely," Kiro said, not commenting on the shot itself. "This distance is all right, but outside there are all kinds of variables to account for—wind, for instance."

"I know," she said, handing him the rifle and receiving her cane in return. "Still, I would appreciate it if have the time to teach me."

"Of course, master," Kiro said. "Just name a time, and I'll be there."

"Speaking of shooting," she said, noticing Sheik and giving him a nod. "Did you find anything in the armoury?"

"I believe I have, but it's in quite a few pieces and I want to make sure they're all there before I remove it...but I think that's a discussion best saved for later." He too greeted Sheik with a nod. "Good morning, cousin."

"Master, Kiro," Sheik said. "Good morning."

"I'll leave you to it, then, Kiro. Remember to sign out whatever it is with Mana." She took Sheik's shoulder and steered him out of the range and down the halls. She was leading him to the dungeons, he noticed.

"Any progress with Bob?" Sheik asked.

"Some, but not a lot," Impa grunted. "Bob seems remarkably resistant to the sickness...though that could be because all the vectors the twins have tried have been the wrong ones."

"So try, try, and try again?"

"That's science, or so I'm told."

"Then I assume our resident lycanthrope isn't the reason you wanted to see me this morning?"

"You assume correctly, nephew." Impa paused, glancing into the room that housed the Pillar. "How many years is it, now...?" Her voice dropped to a murmur, as it always did when she remembered the family she'd lost.

"Eleven," Sheik said.

"Have you...?"

"As soon as I got here," he confirmed.

"Good, good..." her eyes were distant but for a moment, but long enough for Sheik to see it, before she snapped back into reality, and continued down the hall. "Anyway, no, Bob isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. Your recruit is making remarkable progress."

"So I've been told," Sheik said, feeling no small amount of pride fluttering in his chest. Link was taking to the hunter training like it was second nature, like this is what he was meant to be all along. The basic skills were there, and it seemed all he needed was experience...and he was ready to take on the mantle. "Mana is taking him out tracking today."

"Mhm," Impa hummed. "There's a pack of wolves that's been growing bolder lately in the woods to the north. I asked her to take him and Kafei to track them down and, if possible, discourage them from going further south."

"Take down the alpha, then."

"Or just chase them off. Not everything has to end with bloodshed, after all."

"Nothing has to, no, but most things do," Sheik muttered.

"Cynicism does not suit you, Sheik."

"So, how long until Link's ready, do you think?" Sheik said, ignoring her admonishment. "By the end of winter?"

"As far as his fighting and shooting abilities go, there is little more we can teach him that real experience won't do a better job of. Mana tells me he learns rather quickly once you explain concepts in a way he can understand, which is quite normal in people with his background. She's preparing a written test of sorts, to test his general knowledge. If he passes, then..."

"An exam?" Sheik said, pausing and facing her. "When?"

"If all goes according to plan and he does well on this tracking assignment? A month. We are trying to find a suitable beast for him to take down. Ideally, some manner of dryad."

"Dryad?" Sheik raised an eyebrow. "Are there even any left up here? I thought the darkwood was burned?"

"We have...been cultivating a few examples in the western part of the valley. The smaller ones, less likely to go after anything bigger than foxes." She sniffed. "I can _feel_ you judging me. Say what you will, but dryads are masters of camouflage, and at the moment your farmer's biggest unknown factor is his tracking skills. A dryad will provide him with the perfect challenge...plus, it won't be easy to take down given its natural armour." She leaned back, meeting her nephew's gaze. "Or do you perhaps want me to release Bob into the wild and then set Link on him? He killed a lycan in Castle Town, but the woods are their natural territory. Bob will quite dangerous, in that regard..."

"It's not up to me how you choose to test him," Sheik said, fighting the urge to yell at her for actively _growing_ tree monsters for whatever purposes. "I just hope you're prepared to take responsibility if something goes wrong."

"I always am," she said, sounding offended. "Not a single recruit has died on their exams under my watch. They may not have passed, but I know better than to let them die. Link will have the support of five veteran hunters, as well as myself."

That was a relief, even if Sheik refused to show it. That'd give her too much satisfaction. "And me? Where I will be during this?"

"Here, at the Studio," she said, her voice hard. "You will only be a distraction to each other."

"A distraction? I don't understand—"

"I am no fool, nephew," she said, drawing herself to her full height. "It's very amusing for the others to think that I am the only one who _hasn't_ noticed how...close...you and the Hylian are."

Sheik's stomach plunged somewhere past his knees. How? How had she found out?

She must have read his thoughts, shifting slightly. "You seem to be under the impression that I have never been your age. I _know_ what feigned nonchalance and innocence looks like. Then there's the looks, the small touches you think no one sees...and then there's the ever so minor fact that Link has been seen entering and leaving your quarters every night for the past...oh, month or so. That is, ever since you came here."

If it were possible, Sheik would gladly have thrown himself into the welcoming embrace of a _nøkk_ rather than face one more second of Impa's alternatively amused and triumphant expression. "I..." he began.

"I do not mind where you find your physical comfort," she said quickly. "I already knew about you and your...friend...from the brothel. It kept you sated, I believed, and so does Link, it would seem." She stepped closer and looked him straight in the eye. "But nephew...there is no future in that sort of relationship. You know this, yes?"

"You don't know that—"

"I do, because sooner or later, you will marry a Sheikah girl, and have children with her," Impa said matter-of-factly. "I am already looking for suitable partners from the other clans."

By now, Sheik's stomach was somewhere near the planet's core. His jaw was making a valiant effort to join it, hindered only by biology and physics. After speaking to Kafei, he'd figured a talk like this was due at some point, but... _already_?

"I'm telling you this because I don't want it to come as a surprise to you," Impa said, softening her tone, as if that made things any better. "Take whatever comfort you can in him for now...but know that it cannot last. Our line's future is at stake, and you have a duty to perform." She patted his shoulder. "Now, I have an appointment with Bob and Ard. Would you like to join us?"

"No, I...I have some things to attend to."

"Very well, nephew. Think on what I have said. I will see you at dinner."

He waited until she rounded the corner before he let himself go, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths. Not only had she known, but she had no intention of letting him go as she had with Kafei. Somehow, he doubted either he or Link could work up the nerve to yell at her like Elenwe had. He felt sick...he'd only just managed to find Link, to have him...and now he had to live with the knowledge that he'd have to give him up as soon as his aunt found a complete stranger from another clan, that he was just supposed to marry...

He couldn't. They couldn't. _She_ couldn't. He growled and lashed out, punching the nearest wall as hard as he could...barely registering the pain and blood that dripped from his torn knuckles.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there before the sound of running feet approached him.

"Sheik! Sheik!"

He looked up, and found Zelda standing in front of him, panting.

"What is it?" he asked, voice cracking.

"It's Link," she said, only now noticing his bloody hand. "What happened?!" she demanded.

But Sheik's attention was on anything but his throbbing fingers. "What about Link? Zelda? What's happened to Link?!"

Her eyes were wide, and her skin pale. "Some...something happened during the tracking." She swallowed. "He's hurt, Sheik!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear...


	42. The Wolf

Clouds had blotted out the sun by the time they reached a clearing, where the remains of an old sawmill stood. Anything of use and made of metal had been removed long ago, leaving the wooden buildings to rot and collapse. The air was oddly still, sheltered from the wind as they were among the thick trees around them.

"This is a good place to start," Mana said as she dismounted, followed quickly by Link and Kafei. "We'll leave the horses in the old mill—that'll keep them somewhat warm."

When Epona and the other mounts were safely secured inside the biggest building, and the doors closed, Mana turned to Link. "Now, this is just an exploratory hunt where I evaluate and judge your ability to identify tracks, and then follow them to the best of your ability. Success does not hinge on actually _finding_ whatever creature it is, though it will definitely count in your favour. Kafei is here to observe and, if necessary, provide assistance." She turned to the open area between the buildings, gesturing around the area. "This is where the first tracks were found yesterday. The weather has remained stable, with neither snow nor rain interfering. This area is sheltered from the wind by the trees. What does that mean for any eventual tracks you find?"

Link thought for a moment. "That it will be hard to ascertain how old they are, if nothing else has disturbed them in the meantime," he said, fighting the urge to cheer when Mana smiled and nodded.

"Correct, which means you can't make a decision based on a single track or clue—you need multiple, corroborating leads before pursuing them. Otherwise, chances are you'll be heading in the wrong direction entirely." She looked to Kafei. "Isn't that right?" she asked sweetly, which only made Kafei scowl.

"One time," he said. " _One_ time!"

"And how many hours were you stumbling about, trying to find that rabbit?"

"...a few," he muttered.

"Five," she corrected. "Five hours, wasted on a rabbit whose tracks were hidden by the heavy snowfall. Never mind the fact that he was _actually_ trying to find a spriggan." She looked to Link, expecting an answer.

"Er...type of dryad, right? Creatures that look a lot like trees, about a million subspecies—"

"Correct, if somewhat exaggerated," she said happily. "It's good to see that all those lectures weren't wasted on you. I've had more than my fair share of recruits that were, shall we say, less gifted in the area of information retention. I shan't name any names, of course..."

" _One time_!" Kafei almost screeched. "And Sheik was even worse with the cat he was so convinced was actually a _bakeneko_ , and don't try to tell me otherwise!"

"A theory that only lasted for twenty minutes, as I recall, and he caught it ten minutes later," Mana reminded him. "Five hours. Rabbit." Turning away, she regarded Link beneath her hat brim, giving him a slightly wrinkled smile. "Now, show me what you can do. Pick up the trail, and lead us to the beast, if you'd be so kind."

Link nodded and went to work. There were plenty to choose from, but several were from the horses and riders who'd found the tracks to begin with, so he disregarded those immediately along with their own, which were contaminating the area. He found the actual tracks a few minutes later, trailing along the sides of the old houses and buildings.

"Ah, you found them," Mana said. "Good. Now, tell me what you can confirm from this."

"Canine," Link said. "Too big and numerous for foxes—dogs, maybe? No, too big for that. Too normal and symmetric for any of the beastly variants... Wolves, then, on the hunt judging by the way they've kept to the sides of the buildings...or seeking shelter, maybe."

Mana grinned. "Ah, it brings tears to my eyes, such a quick answer."

"To a very simple question," Kafei said, though his eyes were soft enough to indicate he wasn't being nasty—just his regular not-funny brand of humour at work. "What colour are they?" he asked, chuckling.

"Shush you," Mana admonished. "I don't recall you being all that confident on your first tracking."

"Because we were tracking a snake big enough to swallow me whole," he said, shuddering. "It was a miracle I didn't piss myself and run off when you told me to go inside the cave."

"The thing was long-dead anyway," she replied, waving her arm nonchalantly, like it was nothing to ask a child (or so Link presumed) to go inside a cave with such a monster lurking inside. "You needed a good scaring, anyway. You were getting too big for your breeches."

"Uh, their fur will be white, on account of it being winter," Link added, hoping his companions weren't about to start fighting. Kafei gave him a withering look before grinning.

"Correct," he said, clapping his hands.

"Can you tell me anything about their numbers?" Mana asked.

Link took a moment to carefully study and count the number of paw prints in the snow. It wasn't easy—many of them overlapped, and some seemed to be going in circles. "I can't tell for certain," he admitted, "but I'd estimate around...eight or nine individuals. Slightly larger than the average pack."

"Hm, I'd agree to that estimate," Mana said, nodding. "Kafei?"

"Sounds about right," Kafei agreed, kneeling down a little further away, examining his own set of tracks. "And at least one wounded. See how this one's left hind leg is trailing slightly? Probably a run-in with a game hunter from Whiteridge, or one of the villages further down the mountainside earlier this fall. Must have healed quickly."

Link saw the slight hitches in the walking pattern of one of the individuals, and agreed with Kafei's suggestion. Mana seemed to do the same.

"That means taking them on will be more dangerous than usual," she said. "The pack will defend the wounded individual from attackers with fierce determination." She fingered the holster on her back, where a fierce-looking scimitar was sheathed. "I doubt it will come to a fight—I see no need to put them down just yet. However, I would still like to know where they are going, so we can warn Whiteridge in case they stray a little too close to the village. Children are such easy targets for a hungry family... Continue, Link. Show us where they are heading."

Link did so, following the tracks around the old sawmill as best he could. The wolves kept looping back, probably watching the perimeter closely and ensuring no bigger predators were following. He found some droppings and territorial markings, at which point the tracks began leading into the woods.

"In there," he said, pointing into the trees. "Do we follow?"

"Of course," Mana said cheerfully. "Following their lead around a yard isn't much of an accomplishment. Lead on, child."

The snow wasn't as deep among the trees, the ground sheltered from the precipitation and making it easier for the hunters to move. Unfortunately, it also made the wolves' tracks harder to find. Luckily, a few hundred yards into the woods, they found the remains of a deer—presumably what the wolves had been hunting around the sawmill. Link couldn't recall seeing deer tracks, but he filed that away for the time being.

"They were in a hurry," he said after studying the carcass for a moment.

"What makes you say that?" Mana asked.

"They didn't finish," he said, pointing at a leg, on which there was still plenty of meat. "Still good eating on this. Pretty sure they wouldn't let it go to waste."

"I agree," she said.

"Perhaps they heard something coming and decided to bolt?" Kafei suggested. "I can't see any other tracks around, so they weren't chased away."

"How long ago since this animal died?" Mana asked.

The blood had long since coagulated and turned brown, and the carcass had already begun to decompose...which didn't...

"That makes no sense," Link muttered.

"Hm?"

"The deer has started to rot—how is that possible? It's far too cold for that to happen, and has been for the past couple of weeks at the very least. It should be frozen solid, even if it's only been a day." The look of surprise on Mana's face told him she hadn't considered that, which he found a little strange...but then perhaps the old hunter was so used to being right that any sort of incongruity caught her off-guard.

"That is indeed...strange," she agreed. "This deer has been dead for...quite a while, I'd say, and has been in a warmer climate than up here."

"Stolen from Whiteridge?" Kafei suggested. "Wolves sometimes become desperate when hungry."

"It makes no sense for them to drag it all the way from end of the pass to the other before eating it," Mana said. "And I'm pretty sure the people there would notice a bloody great wolf sneaking into a larder and dragging a sizeable deer carcass away." She sighed, stamping her feet to keep warm. "No, something is definitely off here...unless it was stolen from a passing merchant...except no one enters or leaves this place during winter...hm..."

She hummed for a good moment or two, and turned to the other Sheikah. "What do you think?"

He looked just as thoughtful. "I say we investigate—if we see something we don't like or can't handle on our own, we pull back. For now, it's just a wolf pack and a strange carcass. Weirder things have been known occur."

"And you?" Mana asked, turning to Link. "Do you think we should pursue this?"

Link nodded. He was as confused and curious about this as the others. "I think we can handle it," he said confidently, smiling at her.

"Very well," she acknowledged. "Lead on, then, recruit. Let us investigate."

* * *

Impa found Mana pacing outside the infirmary, clothes covered in blood and walking with a slight limp, but seemingly all right, which was a great relief. Next to her, sitting with his back against the wall, Kafei seemed to be in a similar condition, staring firmly at the door. From within, pained screams could be heard. She winced.

"Mana," she said, drawing the older hunter's attention. "What happened?"

Her face had lost all colour, and her ruby eyes were wide—from shock, possibly?

"It was just a pack of wolves," she said. "Just...a normal pack..."

"They had a friend," Kafei said bitterly. "We should have seen it coming..."

"What kind of friend?" Impa asked.

"It's out in the courtyard," he said, not looking up at her. Neither of them seemed able to communicate properly at the moment, so Impa settled for listening instead. "Brought it with us..."

Impa paused when she heard Sheik's voice within the infirmary, but willed herself not to enter. Her presence would be anything but welcome right now. Instead, she turned and strode away from the infirmary, heading for the courtyard.

Well away, she heard the infirmary door slam open, and Zelda bellowing with a surprisingly strong voice, "Someone get the twins!"

It only made Impa hurry towards the courtyard. What on earth could have happened?

* * *

It proved how fickle the nature of a hunt could be. By the time they realised something wasn't just off, but downright _wrong_ , it was already too late.

They'd tracked the wolves to a long-abandoned mine, one of many attempts by previous inhabitants of the pass to turn the place profitable. It was so old, the road had long since been overgrown by the surrounding woods.

That the wolves sought shelter in the mine wasn't all that unusual—any port in a storm, after all, and at this point it was just a cave like any other. What was unusual, and what had them on edge, was the new set of tracks that had joined the wolves'.

"This is not a wolf," Link said, feeling foolish as he said it. Anyone could see that, on account of the print itself being bigger than his hand. Never mind that whatever it was clearly had fingers (extremely long) and gigantic feet with claws.

"No," Kafei agreed. "This is something else. Care to venture a guess?"

Mana was standing near the mine entrance, her scimitar and a pistol drawn. She peered into the darkness, frowning. "I can't hear anything in there," she said quietly.

"Humanoid," Link said. "...I'm not sure what else I can tell about it."

"That's strange," Kafei said, "since you've already encountered one of these. Two, in fact."

Link blinked, peering down at the print. That...was...

"Lycanthrope?" he asked, feeling his heart give a slight leap of...excitement? Fear? His last encounter with one of these had ended rather quickly, but he had no delusions that facing another one would result in the same end.

"Bingo," Kafei said, looking to Mana. "I think we should pull back," he said just as quietly as her. "We're not equipped for it. I don't have any silver on me, either."

"Link's got the only silver sword between us," Mana said, slowly stepping away from the entrance. "And I agree—a slow, careful retreat, and then we can...oh."

"Oh?" Link asked, drawing his silver sword. In the corner of his eye, Kafei pulled out a pair of small, one-handed axes.

"Not to put a dampener on the afternoon," Mana said, pointing at a second set of lycanthrope tracks. These ones, however, led _out_ of the mine, rather than into it. "But these are fresher."

"So it's not in there," Kafei said, looking around.

"Not unless there's another entrance," Mana agreed. "Tighten up, back to back."

Between the three of them, they had a good view of the surrounding trees...which didn't help very much given how close they grew.

Link's heart was beating wildly. The slow realisation that they were likely being hunted themselves was...gut-wrenching. He tightened his grip on his sword, his arm brushing the loaded pistol at his waist. His first beast kill had been with a pistol...but he doubted he could repeat the shot, especially when they didn't even know where the damn thing was.

"Plan?" Kafei asked.

"We step away from the cave slowly and carefully, show that we mean no harm," Mana said, and as one they began to move, taking careful steps back in the direction they'd come. "Then, when we're a good distance away, we make a run for it. With any luck, it'll lose interest and leave us to it."

"We're not fighting it?" Link asked.

"Not taking the chance," Kafei said. "I'm the only proper hunter here—you're a recruit, and Mana is...well, you're old."

"I'll be taking the flat of this scimitar to your backside for that, boy," Mana said. "But you have a point—I do not feel confident in our chances against a lycan with our current group. I am too far past my prime to take on such a thing."

It was a sound plan, really, realising they did not have the strength to take it on and choosing to go back instead of engaging. They would return later, in greater numbers and properly equipped to take it down, and seal the mine. For each step they took away from the mine and back towards the sawmill, Link felt the tension in his shoulders increase and decrease. They were away from the mine, but the lycan was still out there. The only question was whether or not it was nearby.

That question was answered a few minutes later, when a loud growl filled the woods around them.

"Tighten up," Mana ordered again, and they once more stood back to back. "Keep an eye out—you see it, you let the others know. We cannot let this thing catch us from behind."

Link kept his eyes peeled, peering among the trees, trying to catch sight of something—anything—moving out there. He was rewarded. A white mound moved—barely a twitch, but he saw it. He pointed towards the spot. "There, to the left, under the branches."

"Are you sure?" Kafei asked. "I don't see anything—just snow."

"It's there," Link confirmed. "Its coat is white."

"Impossible," Mana said. "Lycans don't shed; they're not _actually_ wolves, you kno—"

The mound shifted once more...and the beast burst forth from among the branches, a white blur of teeth and claws as it pounced on the group. There was no time to think—they could only hurl themselves out of the way, hoping not to feel something clamping around an extremity. Link fell face-first into a pile of snow, quickly rolling to his feet, vision clearing just in time to see Mana firing her pistol at nearly point-blank range. An easy shot, impossible to miss...but the creature twisted out of the way, smacking her aside with a huge paw for her trouble. She crashed into the side of a tree with a grunt.

"Link, on me!" Kafei shouted, darting forward and swinging his axes in wide arcs, hoping to intimidate the beast, but it merely shifted to glare at him with red, almost glowing eyes, hurling itself forward to meet him head on.

"Kafei, down!" Link crashed into Kafei and threw them both down as the beast sailed overhead, claws gouging the air where Kafei's throat had been moments before.

They rolled back to their feet as the creature righted itself and faced them once more, and they finally got a proper look at it.

"That's not a lycan," Link said, panting.

"What the hell is it, then?" Kafei asked.

Easily twice the size of the monster Link had shot through the head in Castle Town, this lycanthrope-like beast looked more wolf than a man-wolf hybrid, like the rest of its kind. Its head was easily the size of Hafthor's war hammer, and every tooth was perfectly shaped, white and sharp. It walked on all four, but looked perfectly comfortable standing on two, and unlike the other lycanthropes its body did not seem misshapen or broken, like it wasn't a normal person who'd been twisted into this shape by disease. If anything, it looked as natural as it possibly could, all covered in a coat of rich, white and grey-speckled fur. It even had a wolf-like tail, which was not a regular feature on a lycan.

"Something else," was all Link had time to say before the thing pounced again. Link struck out with his sword. It was an awkward angle, and it barely touched the beast's shoulder...but it clearly shared its brethren's dislike of silver. Howling, it twisted in mid-air and smacked Link in the head with the tip of its tail, causing the world to spin in a wild blur.

Kafei gave a war cry and went on the offensive, going at the beast while its back was turned. Link saw him draw blood, putting a deep gouge in its hindquarters, but it barely seemed to notice (the axes weren't silver), turning to face him with a growl, baring its teeth. Kafei gave it no time to recover, attacking once more, whirling his axes in a flurry to prevent it from getting its teeth anywhere near him, pushing it back. "Check on Mana!" he shouted over the monster's howling.

Link stumbled towards her, keeping an eye on the monster at all times. Kafei was doing an admirable job of keeping it back, but he wasn't able to wound it either. It was much too fast, ducking his blows in a way that could only be described as graceful. And it gave as good as it got—it caught the Sheikah in the leg with its claws, but the long coat caught the brunt of it, tearing through it like wet paper.

Mana was groaning at her spot by the tree, looking quite out of it.

"Hits...like a...rock troll, that...one," she moaned as Link came to her side, pulling her into a sitting position.

"Hey, are you with me?" Link asked, tearing his glove off and snapping his fingers in front of her face. She focused on him and raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I am, stupid boy," she said. "Where's my sword?"

He found the scimitar close by, handing it to her. The pistol was gone, probably lost in a snow pile somewhere. She tried to stand, but her right leg wobbled, and she went down to one knee, glaring at the offending limb.

Shit, she can't walk, Link thought. He turned just in time to see Kafei get one of his axes caught in the creature's maw. It wrenched it from his grip and tossed it away. Kafei drew his pistol and stepped back, aiming carefully. To Link's surprise, the creature seemed to understand what it was, not pouncing immediately now that Kafei was almost defenceless. Instead, it sidestepped, shrinking its profile so there was less of it to hit. Kafei pulled the trigger...and the creature dodged again. It was a flawless dodge, smooth like water, and then it was on him again. Kafei dodged, rolling away.

"Any time you two want to join in is fine by me!" he shouted, pulling another pistol and firing a badly aimed shot in the beast's general direction. It glanced harmlessly off a pine and further into the woods.

Mana made another attempt to stand up, but her leg was refusing to cooperate. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

Link mirrored the swear inwardly. "Kafei!" he called. "Mana's hurt—she can't walk!"

"I'm a sitting duck," she said, pushing Link's attempts at helping her away. "Go on, get out of here. Hopefully I'll be able to put up enough of a fight to distract it long enough—"

"None of that talk," Link reprimanded her. "Kafei, I have a plan!"

"Oh, good, let's hear it!" Kafei ducked under two swipes from the massive arms of the creatures, quickly closing the distance to draw a dagger and plunge it into its ribs. Once again, it drew blood, but the creature hardly seemed to notice—the blade had probably not even gotten close to anything vital.

"I'll distract it, while you grab Mana and run!"

"No thanks, that's a terrible plan!" He refuted immediately. "Find another!"

"There are no others! Get Mana to safety, and then come back to help me! I'm just a recruit, I'm expendable, remember?"

"Link, don't do this," Mana said. "If anyone should be bait, it's me. I'm old, I—"

Link didn't give her time to finish as he wrenched himself away from her, ran full-tilt at the giant wolf monster's back and raking his silver blade over its back as he went. _That_ drew a reaction, and it nearly shrieked in pain and rage as it focused on him instead. He didn't stick around to find out what happened next, and he quickly ran into the trees as fast as he could. His feet caught in the snowdrifts, but he kept going. Behind him, he heard the monster giving chase, falling for the trap immediately.

...well, it wasn't much of a trap, really. Or a trick. Honestly, it was just Link running for his life until either his lungs collapsed or the thing caught him and tore him to pieces.

He didn't look back; kept his eyes focused ahead, trying to dodge trees and avoid dips that could result in tripping fatally. His regular steel sword caught on a branch, causing the grip to snap out and hit him in the back of his head. His vision blurred, but he kept moving. A tree to his right snapped in half as the beast crashed into it, launching itself at him.

Link threw himself to the ground and immediately scrambled back to his feet, almost dropping his silver blade. He swung it—hit something. Another shriek, and drops of fizzling blood spattered across the silver, quickly burning to nothing.

He didn't know how long he ran for—could have been hours, could have been minutes for all his mind was able to keep up with the events, but the inevitable happened anyway. Something big, heavy, and sharp hit his back and knocked him flat on his face. Refusing to lie still and wait to be eviscerated, Link rolled sideways and up, running like his throat _wasn't_ burning, and—

The ground disappeared beneath him as he reached the edge of a frozen stream, suddenly falling through the air. He hit the frozen surface hard, what little air he had knocked out of him as something snapped in his chest, icy pain flooding his torso. His head smacked into the ice, and his sword went clattering away somewhere he couldn't see, his vision darkening and blurring.

He had a few blissful moments where he thought that perhaps he'd pass out, and never feel the beast's jaws close around his neck...but then he heard it. Heavy footsteps thumping ever close, and a loud snort.

He looked up just as the monster jumped down, claws scrabbling slightly to get a grip on the slipper surface. Its red eyes regarded him for a second that lasted an eternity. And Link gasped when he saw a pair of very recognisable emotions in them—triumph and malice, a combination he'd never seen in those of an animal. Its body coiled, and then its long legs were throwing it through the air, right at him. Link didn't think, merely shifted his weight—and slid right underneath the pounce, feeling some satisfaction when the monster smashed into the rocks that surrounded the stream.

It was hard to breathe and move, but he was still able to hook his freezing fingers (he'd lost his glove at some point) around his pistol's grip, and made to draw it.

Too slow. The monster had him on his back the next second, claws digging into his shoulders. The monster howled once, and closed its jaws on his neck.

Link felt the teeth pierce his skin and sink into muscle and sinew, puncturing veins and tearing ligament. He could barely scream, his throat filling with blood. Instinctively, he reached up with his right hand, trying to push the enormous head away, but it refused to budge, chewing on him. He was losing consciousness fast, a big black spot forming in the centre of his vision. It was hard to move, to breathe, to think...he jammed his thumb into its eye.

There was a slight reprieve as the creature drew back, glaring hatefully down at him, a trail of sticky, red saliva connecting its muzzle to Link's ruined neck.

Hunter and prey regarded each other for a moment...and then something clicked into place in Link's quickly fading mind. The monster lowered its head, intending to finish the job.

Giving it a bloodstained grin, Link reached up with his left hand and shoved his pistol into its mouth, angled up, and fired.

The back of its head exploded in a shower of bone, blood, and brains that rained down on them. Blood poured from its ruined head and into Link's face, his mouth, his wounds. It choked him, the way he choked on his own. The monster's body gave a twitch, and then collapsed with its full weight on top of him, and whatever hope he'd had of remaining conscious faded quickly. As he fell into the darkness, he heard Kafei's voice calling his name. He wanted to answer, but he was too far gone...

...into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for a simple tracking exercise, eh?
> 
> (Also, I don't know a damn thing about wolves, so please don't kill me for getting their behaviour wrong)


	43. The Gift

Zelda had never felt as useless in her entire life as she did now, watching as Doctor Kaura, Tao, and the white-haired twins Ard and Erd do their best to save Link's life. They were muttering instructions to each other at a rapid-fire pace, keeping their heads cool in a manner she could only hope to be able to emulate one day. Between Kaura and Tao, one of Link's arms hung limply from the infirmary bed, covered in blood. It dripped from his fingers, staining the already spotty floor with his life's fluid.

She'd tried to help, at first, but the fact that it was Link, that it was _his_ throat and neck that had been torn open by some horrible beast, had paralysed her completely. All she'd been able to was stare at the remains of the person she'd begun to consider a dear friend. No, not begun to. She'd considered Link a friend from the moment they'd met, despite some early awkwardness. She had not lied to Sheik when she told him meeting Link was like meeting an old friend for the first time in years—like a reunion. To imagine that the reunion would be cut so short, and in such a manner... She had choked, and several seconds of hesitation had Kaura ushering her out of the way. Somehow, she was thankful, because working on this would be...

"Shit, I can't see a damn thing...Tao!"

Kaura growled, and Tao continued to pedal the small pump they used to suck blood away from the gaping hole in Link's neck. The machine squelched loudly with every pump, as spray after spray of dark blood filled the large glass bottle. It was nearly half full at this point, and Zelda had no idea how Link was even still alive, having lost so much of it.

"The windpipe's almost crushed," Erd said quietly. "Torn, here. How the hell is he still breathing?"

"Honestly, I don't care, as long as he keeps doing it," Kaura said. She leaned down, mouth close to Link's ear. "You hear that, boy?" she said. "You just keep breathing, and don't you dare stop, or I'll make your life utter misery when you wake up." She went back to whatever it was she was doing, her back making it impossible to see.

Zelda hovered by the instruments table, having been relegated to the task of getting the tools they needed. She was happy with that job. Every now and then, one of them asked for a knife, a scalpel, or needle and thread, which she brought them right away. She was surprised at how deftly the twins, who were apparently scientists rather than medical personnel, took to the task. Perhaps it was because they were so familiar with anatomy from their research, and had steady hands?

"Ard, this vein is ruined," Erd said quietly. "I can't close it. Folic?"

"Hn," Ard grunted in agreement (this was as much as Zelda had ever heard him talk), and went to the bag they'd brought. He retrieved a small vial and uncorked it. "Pipette?" he asked Kaura, who jerked her head towards Zelda.

Zelda was with him immediately, handing him the delicate tool, which he used to draw a small amount of the liquid in the vial. "What are you going to do with it?" she asked.

"That is a very strong acidic liquid," Erd explained as Ard returned to his side. "I'm going to use it to tear, and then sear this vein shut. It'll probably ruin the thing, but it'll stop the bleeding, too. What do you think, Doctor?" he asked, looking to Kaura for permission.

"Can't make things any worse," the Terminan said, looking exhausted. "Can one of you take a blood sample and check his type? We're going to need a transfusion, at this rate."

After handing his brother the acid-filled pipette, Ard went for their bag once more. He pulled out an expensive-looking device, like a telescope, but mounted so it pointed downward, into a glass dish beneath it. Zelda had heard of such devices, but could not recall its name. Erd set it up on one of the counters, and then got a syringe. With surprising efficiency, he poked Link's arm and withdrew a vial of blood, which he poured a drop of into the dish. He then looked into the telescope-part, and went quiet as he tried to analyse what he saw.

"Zelda, take over," Kaura ordered, and Zelda reluctantly took Ard's place at Erd's side. "Help Erd with the vein."

"I need you to hold it in place while I apply the acid," Erd explained. "And quickly scour it with water once it's severed. Then we'll cauterise it, and pray his body doesn't consider it a foreign body." He handed her a pair of forceps, pointing out the bleeding vein in question. It was pumping out crimson squirts with every heartbeat, and knowing that it might stop at any point when Link's body gave up on fighting for its life...

"Now," Erd commanded, and she pinched it shut at both ends with the forceps. Erd carefully dripped a drop or two of the solution on the vulnerable flesh...which immediately curled in on itself as it was burned to a crisp. Erd cut it away, and scoured it with water himself. A pair of hot irons in the brazier, heated to the point of glowing white, were retrieved, and the scientist carefully, almost gently, singed the ends of the vein shut. "With luck, his body will manage fine without it," he said, sounding none-too-convinced.

Zelda chanced a look at Link's face, which was covered in little cuts and bruises, including a large black eye. It was contorted in pain, and she thanked the Goddesses that he'd passed out soon after they began working on him. The agony would have driven him mad, no doubt...or perhaps he was still feeling it; perhaps not even the blessed darkness of sleep was enough to keep the pain from reaching him. She hoped not. He'd been through enough.

Her eyes moved down to what had once been his neck. Torn open and gouged, teeth marks showing where the monster had taken its first bite. Zelda knew, in theory, what a body looked like on the inside. But the illustrations she'd seen had all been of people and bodies in perfect condition, with just the top layer of skin removed in order to get a good look at the workings inside...but Link was just an utter mess. Muscle and sinew was missing, bits of skin hanging by threads...she could even see the bones of his clavicle from where the skin had been torn off. Nausea crept up on her, but she kept it at bay as best she could. Now was not the time to be throwing up.

Kaura cursed, causing the other three to look at her questioningly. "Look at his throat...his vocal chords...they must be a mess. If he lives through this..."

Zelda didn't know where Kaura had even been able to _see_ what was left of that particular bit of anatomy, but the general area was...just ruined... Did that mean...?

"Ard, how's work going on the blood type?" Erd asked. "He's leaking like a sieve; we need to start a transfusion immediately if he's going to live!"

Ard, to everyone's annoyance, remained silent for a moment, before clearing his throat and speaking...but they were not the words anyone wanted to hear right now.

"Something's wrong."

* * *

Sheik paced back and forth in front of the infirmary door, frustration, fear, and anger rising and swelling within him. He wanted to kick the door in and demand to see what was happening, to demand to know if Link would be all right. He wanted to punch Kafei in the face for letting this happen, yell at Mana for everything going wrong...but he couldn't, not now, not when Link could be dying in the next room.

The screaming had stopped an hour ago, but that probably just meant Link had passed out, since none of them had come outside to bring the bad news. It killed him, not being allowed to know what was happening, and he had been specifically banned from the room. They had even bolted it to prevent him from simply forcing his way inside, the bastards!

"What was it?" he demanded for the tenth time of Mana and Kafei, who, like him, had refused to leave until they knew whether or not Link would live. Mana, having been injured herself, was sitting in a chair someone had brought for her, while Kafei was curled up against the wall, looking the image of abject misery.

Neither of them answered. Mana had stopped responding after the third time he'd asked, not deigning to waste her time on telling him she didn't know. Kafei didn't reply either, but he kept muttering under his breath.

"My fault, my fault..."

Had it been anyone else but Link, Sheik would have tried to stop his cousin's mantra, tell him it wasn't his fault, but...right now, he had no idea whether it actually was or wasn't Kafei's fault that the simple tracking exercise had gone to absolute _shit_!

"Was it a lycan?" Sheik asked, knowing this question was as likely to get an answer as the first. They'd encountered some sort of wolf-like beast, from what he understood, but nothing like a lycan, which was just ridiculous because lycans were the only wolf monsters he knew about.

Then, everything went eerily quiet behind the infirmary door, and Sheik was it in an instant, pressing his pointed ear against it, hoping to hear even a sliver of the conversation happening inside. He didn't need to. Kaura's outraged yell could be heard throughout the studio, he was sure.

_**"What do you mean, 'it's changing'?!"** _

* * *

Link had no idea where he was. It felt familiar, yet foreign at the same time...and extremely unnerving. It was like floating in darkness, though it felt more like water. All around him was nothing but black, stretching on infinitely. There was no sound, neither from his surroundings, nor his own mouth. Not even his own breathing made any sort of noise. He was on his back...or so he believed. It was impossible to tell. Not that it mattered; he couldn't move any of his limbs anyway.

Is this...death? Did I die?

He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten here...only that he'd been running...and then fell. And then nothing, and then he was here.

If this were indeed what came after life...he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Relief? Disappointment? Anger? Hard to tell. Link had been raised to believe in the Goddesses and the Sacred Realm, but this did not match any of the stories he'd been told. Perhaps...this was the damnation the travelling priests had spoken of? He'd always imagined it with more fire, pain, and little, mean creatures with pitchforks poking at him.

So, I'm dead, he thought.

He opened his eyes (or perhaps they'd been open all along), and tried to twist his body, to turn around. Slowly, it obeyed, and he felt a vague sensation of momentum, his body slowly turning in the void...and accomplishing absolutely nothing. He could only hope it didn't make him dizzy. Throwing up in the afterlife was probably not very polite, even if were in the damning pits.

He'd hoped to be able to see his parents again, once last time, and Akia...even if he weren't mean for the same place as them. He missed them, so much his heart ached whenever he thought of them...

"Hello?"

He tried calling out, but his words were absolutely silent, not even the sound the air (was it really air?) rushing from his lungs.

"Is there anyone here?"

He both wanted and did not want someone to answer that. He didn't want to be alone...but if he weren't alone, _who else_ was here? Who else could deserve to be sent here, to suffer in the darkness with him? Perhaps that was what this place? Perhaps he was actually surrounded by thousands, millions of lost souls like himself...but separated by shadows and silence, together but so very alone...

Sheik...he wished Sheik were there. He'd know what to do...or what to say, to keep Link's mind occupied so it didn't get bogged down with thoughts that only made him more miserable.

"Hey! Can anyone hear me?!"

He tried shouting, and he _felt_ the words in his throat, which hurt like razorblades were raking along the inside of it.

And then, someone answered.

Or some _thing_.

A low, rumbling growl echoed in the darkness. It came from all around him, impossible to pinpoint. He spun, in the air, tried to right himself...and felt something like a floor. He crashed face-first into it, but it did not hurt since the surface had the texture of wet mud, yielding yet firm at the same time. After a moment's confusion, he rose to his feet, looking around. The growling had not ceased—if anything, it had begun to sound clearer, louder...closer.

It felt strange, standing on an invisible, soft floor in the middle of a pitch-black abyss...while _something_ was growling at him.

Then he saw it.

A pair of glowing, yellow dots of light, far off in the distance. They swayed from side to side, and then they seemed to focus on him. Like eyes. The growl turned into a howl, and they came at him.

Instincts taking over, Link turned, and ran...which felt oddly familiar.

He might as well have tried to talk whatever it was down from chasing him—his bare feet seemed to sink into the invisible floor, slowing him down and making it impossible to move with any sort of speed. His chest hurt, his neck hurt, his throat hurt, and every breath he took was like a knife in his sternum.

He heard and felt the monster in the dark getting closer and closer. Its feet made the floor shake as they thudded along it, making his footing even less steady...and Link knew it was no use running.

What does it matter, if I'm already dead?

Steeling himself, he turned around and faced the thing chasing him. The dots were definitely eyes, glowing and hateful, and below them was a round snout with a million teeth. Link clenched his jaw, steeling himself...and opened his arms.

Come on, his body language said. Come get me.

It pounced, and the abyss vanished with nothing but a long, mournful howl echoing into infinity.

...only...it sounded like _his_ voice...

* * *

Kaura stared at the microscope, tapping her thigh as she tried to think of a single reason or cause for the results she was seeing in Link's blood sample. Contaminants? No, Ard had drawn it directly from Link's arm, and nowhere near the wound, with a clean needle. Was she simply too tired, and saw things that weren't there? No, the others, including Zelda and Tao, had confirmed that they saw the same thing.

Muttering obscenities under her breath, she went in for her sixth look at what could only be described as the sheer _chaos_ of Link's blood, magnifying as much as she possibly could. The bad lighting conditions didn't make things easier, but it definitely wasn't something she was imagining.

She'd taken and seen thousands of blood samples in her years as a physician. She was familiar with blood. She knew blood. She knew what it was, what it could do, what it was made of, its qualities...and yet what she was seeing right now went against her education and experience in a way that made her wonder if it was the thinner air in the mountain pass that was slowly choking her to death, making her brain see some pretty fucked up things in the meantime. Or maybe it was just the proximity to hunters that made temporary insanity seem like a good alternative.

Either way, she still found herself refusing to believe that what she saw in that dish was real. For one thing, there wasn't just blood. There was _something else_. Something alive. Something affecting the blood, changing it in a way she had never seen before. She'd seen what certain diseases could do to a person, the way they could ravage the very smallest parts of their bodies, down to the very cells of their blood, tearing them apart...but whatever was swimming around in the microscope's dish...well, it was doing the opposite.

It found damaged cells and...for the lack of a better word, healed them. Fixed them. Seemingly made them stronger, and multiplied them. It was a medical impossibility, and yet she was looking directly at it as it happened.

I must be tired, was her first thought.

I must be insane, was the second.

I need a fucking drink, was the third, and at that point her natural curiosity, usually buried under years of cynicism and exasperation, kicked in. Taking another look in the microscope, she made a humming noise, and then walked back over to Link's unconscious body, where the twins, Tao, and Zelda were still working on keeping the foolish boy alive. He was still bleeding at a rate that should have emptied him hours ago. Another clue, she supposed.

She took out a scalpel—her favourite, the sharpest she'd ever had, with an obsidian blade. She then took Link's left hand, and turned it over. With a quick movement, she cut a shallow line into the skin on the back of it, drawing blood. At this point, it should have been like poking a hole in a long-dead corpse—dry as a husk. And yet, it flowed like there _wasn't_ a gigantic hole where his neck had been. Like he _hadn't_ been bleeding for hours already. That alone was interesting...but it wasn't what she was looking for.

Her action, predictably, drew a reaction from the others.

"What are you doing, doctor?!" Zelda asked, looking ready to bolt to her friend's defence.

"Why are you cutting him?" Erd asked calmly, while Ard simply looked at the wound she'd just inflicted. Tao, as always remained quiet, but he too was giving her an outraged look that matched the princess' (they were rubbing off on each other, those two).

"You've all seen the blood," Kaura said, her eyes barely inches away from the oozing wound. "I am simply performing an experiment. Bring that lantern closer...thank you..."

The blood continued to flow for another few seconds...and was then reduced to a trickle...and then just a few beads. Had Kaura been anywhere else, she would have assumed it simply meant Link had finally dried out...but then she saw what she'd hoped (and, she admitted, dreaded) to see.

"Look," she said. "The flesh...the skin."

Erd gasped. "It's...knitting itself back together!"

One needed to look closely to see it. It was a slow process, and it would take hours to be gone completely, Kaura calculated...but the skin of Link's hand was indeed slowly putting itself back together. It was as if the edges of the wound were magnetically drawn to each other, and once together again they sought to undo the damage she had caused. It was...incredible to see.

"Healing rate exceeding normal by...magnitudes," Ard said, sounding absolutely awed himself. Zelda's mouth hung open, and Tao simply looked worriedly at Link.

Kaura chuckled, and patted Link's hand. "No wonder you're still alive, you lucky son of a bitch," she said. "All right, now we know what we're dealing with. Looks like he'll be able to heal himself quicker than we ever could, which means we have one job, and one job only."

"And that is?" Zelda asked, voice unsteady.

Kaura held her breath for an agonisingly long five seconds, and then breathed out. "We keep him alive, until he can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh...


	44. The Mayor

Admittedly, it had been a good four and a half decades since he'd last seen the place, but he had _not_ been prepared for how much the once tiny little village of Whiteridge had grown since he'd last set foot in the mountain pass. When Ascal had last laid eyes upon it, it hadn't housed more than a couple hundred people at most (he had never been considered welcome there), but now...now there had to be at least thousand, if not even more. How the freezing valley could even support such a large population (including the hunters) was beyond him, but he had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If anything, this would make things even easier.

He and Art were currently wandering the large marketplace that dominated the square in the middle of the village (city, more like), trying to play the part of poor travellers who'd failed to get out of the pass before the roads froze over. Ascal had a feeling they failed quite miserably at the acting part, given their rather obvious armaments that the average travelling salesman definitely did _not_ carry, but he had no intention of getting caught by a hunter unarmed. They sometimes made trips to this place, after all.

"These made with butter?"

Ascal rolled his eyes and tried to tune out the conversation Art was having with a young girl in a stall, selling some sort of pork bun and other assorted baked goods. She was a lovely-looking lass, he had to admit, but it was clearly not her appearance (or other assets) Art was interested in. He had sampled her merchandise, and spent the last ten minutes talking _recipes_ with her. If it hadn't nearly shocked him to the core, Ascal would have dragged him away long ago, but there was just _something_ so bizarre about his usually silent henchman showing a disturbingly active interest in baking that he could do little but hover uncertainly, hoping it would be over soon.

"Oh, yes, you've got to have butter, else it'll be far too dry!" the girl replied with mock-horror in her voice, her red hair catching the midday sun in a very fetching display that would have any sane man enraptured...except, Ascal had never considered himself particularly sane, and Art was far too absorbed in the fine chemistry of pastries to bother. "But that was a trick question, wasn't it?" she said teasingly, swatting Art's shoulder flirtatiously.

Ascal's eyebrow twitched. In Castle Town, anyone who swatted at Art, be it man, woman, or child, would have suffered a broken nose for it. He did _not_ like to be touched. Why he allowed this...this red-haired _harlot_ to do it to him with nothing but a pleased grin was a bloody mystery!

Not liking the direction his thoughts were taking, Ascal managed to turn away from the horrifying display with monumental effort, focusing instead on the stall opposite of the girl's, which sold animal pelts of every shape and size. Definitely a liaison of the hunters, he realised after seeing the grey-white, short-haired shape of an _eikthyrnir_ among the regular deer pelts. Those were quite rare, and Ascal had been sure they were all but wiped out in this part of the world.

The pelt merchant was deep in conversation with one of his customers, but gave Ascal curious looks now and then. He probably thought Ascal was a hunter, and wondered why he didn't have anything to sell. He wasn't offered an answer for that, however, as Ascal's perusing was soon interrupted by a loud, rude voice.

"Oi, hunters! What are you doing here? We have a deal, remember?"

The chatter and other assorted noises of the marketplace quickly died down in the wake of that voice. Ascal turned to the newcomer, giving him a quick once-over and finding himself less than impressed.

The boy was clearly an important person—his fine clothing, covered by a sturdy-looking chest plate, said as much. He carried a longsword at his hip, with a matching dagger on the other, and a pistol in a low-hanging holster on his right thigh. His sleeve was adorned with a white wolf's head, teeth bared in a growl. His long, black hair was kept back in a ponytail, his sharp features regarding Ascal with utter suspicion. He was flanked by a pair of strong-looking men in identical armour, though they were less fine clothing underneath it, and were carrying rifles.

Watchmen, Ascal thought. And someone high-ranking. There was something familiar about the young man that Ascal couldn't quite place, like he had seen him before somewhere...but that was impossible.

"Excuse me?" Ascal asked, affecting a confused voice. "Are you referring to me? I am no hunter; I am just a travelling merchant—"

"No merchant carries silver weaponry," the boy said, gesturing to the tip of the longsword Ascal had strapped to his back, beneath his thick overcoat. He was actually impressed the little brat had noticed it. "Only hunters are superstitious enough think silver does a better job than steel," he said, patting the handle of his own sword. "So, no more lies, yes?"

In the corner of his eye, Ascal saw Art detach himself from the riveting baking discussion and sidle up to his boss. It was rather impressive, how intimidating Art could make himself look even after talking about the finer points of flour. "Problems, boss?" he asked...or growled, rather.

The watchman didn't seem fazed by Art at all, sparing him but a glance before focusing back on Ascal. Stupid, really. If Ascal had been so inclined, the boy would already be on the ground, bleeding out. "We have a deal," he said loudly, clearly wanting the entire town to hear. "You're not to set foot in Whiteridge outside of the last week of the month. You know what this means."

If he hadn't been in the middle of a plan, Ascal would have rid the world of this arrogant little idiot by now. However, the plan relied on the goodwill of this town, and he had a feeling killing one of their higher-ranking watchmen would not be the way to gain it. So instead, he feigned a friendly smile. "My mistake, sir," he said, bowing. "I am a new arrival to The Studio, and I was not informed of any restrictions placed upon our group. I will be more than happy to pay whatever fine I have incurred—"

"Fine?" the boy asked, chuckling. "There is no fine to be paid, master hunter. The Mayor made it quite clear that the next trespass would be punished by making an example of the offender. You're looking at a winter spent in gaol!"

Oh, well, he supposed he could make other plans.

Ascal frowned, placing his hand on the handle of his fencing blade. "That is out of the question, I'm afraid. I am more than willing to leave Whiteridge, of course, but if you take action against me and my companion, there _will_ be trouble."

At his side, Art was the epitome of subtlety, drawing a pistol and a knife, glaring directly at one of the other watchmen. The red-haired girl was nowhere to be seen, having ducked out of the way along with the fur vendor. Around them, the villagers were also shuffling out of sight, not willing to become part of the fight that was about to ensue.

"Last warning," the boy said, drawing his sword and dagger. "Surrender peacefully, and live to see spring."

"Persist, and die before dusk," Ascal retorted.

They stared at each other for a good ten seconds, before the boy moved to step forward. He faltered when another voice echoed across the marketplace.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?!"

The boy's reaction was instant. After regaining his balance, he sheathed his weapons and snapped to a salute, as did his companions, just in time as a fourth watchman rounded the corner. This one's armour was adorned with various carvings and burned-in details, mostly of wolves (predictably). He carried a large, two-handed sword on his back, and no other weapons from what Ascal could see. He assumed this was _the_ watchman, judging from the retinue of four more watchmen following him at a jogging pace. The man _projected_ authority, and he regarded the young officer with the disdain of a military commander...but also...affection?

The newcomer's face was obscured by a large, grey and bushy beard and thick eyebrows, but upon closer observation, Ascal definitely saw a set of shared features between the two of them—the same slightly curved nose, for instance.

Father and son, then, Ascal thought. It still bothered him, however, that he couldn't place the young man's face...though, on the other hand, this older gentleman...

"Rane, care to explain why you are drawing your blade against a pair of guests?" the man growled.

"Sir, they are hunters!" the boy—Rane—pleaded. " _And_ they drew first!"

"Only _after_ we were threatened with a trip to your dungeons for the winter," Ascal said, keeping his voice calm and collected, unlike Rane's. "Without as much as a chance to speak for ourselves."

"Be quiet, _hunter_!" Rane snarled, moving to draw his weapons again, but his father's hand on his shoulder made him pause.

"Go back to the barracks," the man ordered quietly, but firmly.

"But—"

"To the barracks!" he barked. "And take your men with you! Your patrol ended fifteen minutes ago!"

Looking torn, Rane finally gave up with a huff and cast Ascal a seething glare before stomping away, his cronies (who weren't much older than himself) following demurely.

His father watched Rane until he disappeared behind one of the stone houses, before sighing and turning to Ascal. "My apologies, master hunter. My son can be difficult to deal with, during winter." He studied Ascal's face for a moment. "I don't recognise your face, and I'm pretty sure I'm acquainted with most of The Studio's inhabitants. You a new recruit?"

Realising his original plan was mostly shot to pieces by now, Ascal gave a half-nod. "Not as such, but this is indeed the first time I have set foot in this pass, and this village. Sir, may I please know to whom I am speaking?"

"My name is Dane, and I'm the mayor," he replied, nodding politely. "And you?"

And there it clicked into place. Of course it was Dane. When Ascal had last seen him, he had been but a snivelling, wide-eyed child of ten years, looking in awe as a procession of hunters had marched by the village on their way to a hunt. It was the one time Ascal had been that near the village, and listened to a formal trading agreement being made between the Master Hunter at the time, and Dane's mother, who'd been a tough piece of work from what he'd heard of her. The hunt at the time (for a mountain troll that had gotten _far_ too confident in its own strength) had been the contract for the agreement.

"My name is Silver," Ascal said, introducing himself. "And this is my partner, Gold."

"Not your real names, I take it?" Dane said drily, looking unimpressed.

"Far from them," Ascal confirmed. "My presence here is...not welcomed by the others, which is why we arrived here just before the snows. I am actually here to speak with you, Mister Mayor, though hopefully in a less conspicuous location."

To his credit, Dane looked like he'd much rather make good on his son's threat, which was by far the smartest choice in the situation. He took a long moment to consider his options, before nodding. "Very well, Mister Silver, Mister Gold. Please, follow me. We will speak in my office."

They were slotted neatly into the column of watchmen (flanked by four of them, in case they got any bright ideas), and marched towards eastern edge of town, which overlooked the ridge for which the town got its name. It ended in a sheer drop into the crags and mountain tops below. A fence had been built at the edges to prevent anyone from falling, but the one at the bottom was a pitiful thing that could do little to even slow down the unfortunate souls who managed to trip over the first one.

The building seemed to serve as the Mayor's house and Watch barracks at once. A large field had been cleared in front of it, in which the non-patrolling watchmen were training with both melee weaponry and rifles. They seemed to be a large force, at least a couple hundred men and women.

Inside, they were led to the second story and into a large office that also doubled as Dane's bedroom. A huge desk dominated most of it, flanked by a fireplace. A modest library occupied one wall, while a raised dais with a double bed occupied the rest of the room.

Dane cleared his throat when they were inside, looking pointedly at Ascal and Art's weapons. "I can assure you that they will be returned to you," he said. "I'm sure you understand."

Art was reluctant to turn over his pistols and knives, but Ascal's quick look assured it happened smoothly. Once thoroughly disarmed, they were allowed to sit in the chairs facing Dane's desk, and they were left alone with the mayor in his office. Dane sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. His massive sword was at his side, ready to be swung at a moment's notice. The man knew what he was doing.

"So, now we are alone," he said.

"We are," Ascal agreed. "In a fortress, even. I have to admit, I am impressed. The information I received upon embarking on the journey here was clearly out of date. It mentioned the village had, at most, a few hundred inhabitants, but from what I saw that is the number of _watchmen_ you have, let alone the entire village."

"We have grown, yes," Dane said with a nod. "Our trade agreement with the hunters brought quite a bit of money into town, which drew more travellers who decided to stay permanently. The sudden increase in people required a more disciplined police force, which is why I formed the Watch. In a place like this, which becomes a prison for a good third of the year, order _must_ be kept. Cabin fever is a real danger."

"They are a very disciplined bunch, your men," Ascal noted. "Military precision in their training."

"I spent some time as a mercenary when I was younger," Dane said. "I took what I learned with me when I returned home. Decided to put it to good use." He shook his head. "But I didn't bring you here to give you my life's story, or that of the town. Tell me, Mister Silver, why are you here, and why are you hiding from your fellow hunters?"

Ascal knew Dane was not a man to trifle with. He was as hard as any veteran hunter—a certain tension that he carried in his shoulders gave it away. He would not take well to attempts at being subtle or stealthy. So Ascal chose the straightforward approach instead.

"Because the task I am here to perform is not a happy one, nor one the Master Hunter of the Studio will appreciate, even if it was authorised by the Master Hunter of the Atelier," Ascal said. "I am here to track down and, if possible, capture a pair of hunters who put an entire village in Hyrule to the torch. If they will not come quietly, I am to execute them. I am also, if she is still alive, to bring back a girl they kidnapped on their way here. A minor Hylian noble, brown hair and spectacles."

Dane's eyes had widened a fraction, and the rigidness of his back told Ascal he didn't like what he was hearing...but he hadn't called him a liar yet.

"And you believe these hunters to be here, at the Studio?" he asked.

"A hunter in Termina confirmed that they passed through Clock Town, and were heading this way. We were catching up to them, but the snows slowed us down, and we barely managed to make into the pass before the road froze. By then, they'd already made it to the fortress, and we lost our chance to grab them quietly and without incident."

"Without incident?" Dane asked. "Surely the hunters here will agree to hand them over once they learn of their crimes?"

"I doubt it," Ascal said. "From what I understand, one of the hunters in question happens to be related to the Master Hunter. His name is Sheik. I am unsure if you're familiar with the family—"

"I keep in regular contact with Master Impa, and I am familiar with her nephew," Dane said.

Impa... Ascal was surprised. He'd been certain it was Iana who was the elder...or perhaps he'd missed something?

"But I cannot imagine any of them doing such a thing," Dane continued, shaking his head. "The hunters...the Sheikah...they are, all things considered, an honourable group. Murder and kidnapping...that does not sound like them." He gave Ascal a hard look. "Do you have any evidence of this?"

Ascal made himself look contrite, shaking his head slowly. "Only what I have seen with my own eyes. I saw the blackened bones of the village they put to the torch, the bodies they left behind. The girl's butchered family..." He shuddered. "They showed no mercy."

Dane looked doubtful. "But why would they do such a thing?"

"That is what confuses me as well, sir," Ascal said. "As I said, my orders are to capture them first and foremost. I was planning to question them, to get to the bottom of it. I already have a theory, but I am rather...hesitant to voice it, for fear of being mocked."

"Please, there is no risk of that here, Mister Silver," Dane assured him, his tone softening. "I have nothing but respect for hunters, and I know you value knowledge highly. Perhaps I can be of assistance with your theory?"

"That would be most welcome," Ascal said, a relieved smile coming to his lips. "Well, it's more a hypothesis than a theory, but...I have it on good authority that the pair of them hunted lycanthropes in Hyrule before they committed their...beastly acts. You are familiar with lycanthropes?"

"Werewolves, yes," Dane said. "Though only in stories. They do not trek this high up, luckily."

"Well, as I'm sure you know from the stories, lycanthropy is a sickness. Lycanthropes were originally men or women who somehow caught the disease, and were twisted and moulded into monstrous shapes, sanities lost to bloodlust and hunger."

Dane was nodding along. "And?"

"Well, we still know so little of how that disease works, how it is spread, but what if...what if Sheik and his companion were somehow infected with it? If it is a slow process, their grip on sanity would loosen little by little. Say they were called back to the Studio, but the madness overtook them as they passed by the village..."

The mayor of Whiteridge did not look happy with the idea, but he was still nodding along. "Then...they committed these acts because they are slowly becoming monsters? That is worrying, Mister Silver. But it is still only a hypothesis...?"

"Only a hypothesis, yes," Ascal said. "But if there is even the slightest chance of it being true..."

"Then the hunters have let beasts inside their walls," Dane finished. "And they won't even know it before it's too late."

"Now you understand why we are so hesitant to simply walk up to the Studio and announce ourselves?" Ascal said. "And even if the other hunters believe us, Master Impa will not simply agree to hand over her own flesh and blood. She is already suspicious enough the Master Terra as it is. She will definitely not trust his men who've come to take her nephew away."

The bearded face fell into a deep frown as Dane began to pace around his office, undoubtedly cursing the day he had gotten involved with hunters. Why me, his knotted brow seemed to say. Why me?

"This is a serious situation," he said, making the understatement of the century. "And I am not sure how we can resolve it."

"If I may make a suggestion?" Ascal said, clearing his throat.

"By all means, master hunter," Dane said, sounding none-too-thrilled.

"The hunters at the Studio number no more than sixty at most this winter," Ascal said, plying the knowledge he'd gained from Iteos. "And from what I saw outside, your men are at least...two hundred?"

"Where are you going with this?" Dane asked. "Are you asking me to march upon the Studio, like some army, and besiege it? That'll spell the end of us all. We may outnumber the hunters, but they have some of the best fighters in the world, not to mention a fortress that is well-provisioned. They can withstand the siege, and a direct assault will be suicide—they have cannons, for gods' sake!"

"Only one of which is useable," Ascal said quickly. "The latest report to Master Terra detailed the defensive capabilities, and while they have solid walls, there is only so much resistance they can put up before—"

"—folding?" Dane chuckled. "No, Mister Silver, the hunters will never fold, will never surrender. I know Impa too well to even _entertain_ that idea. She is fierce in the negotiation room; I can only imagine what she will be like when fighting for her life or fellow hunters. No, it will be a bloodbath, and I am not risking my watchmen for _that_. Frankly, I'm hesitant to even involve Whiteridge in this, which is strictly business between the hunters and Hyrule. You will have to think of something else, I'm afraid."

That would have been too easy, Ascal told himself. Of course the old man isn't interested in an outright fight. He'd reveal his trump card in Iteos, but he didn't feel comfortable telling Dane about him just yet. It'd shatter the story he'd told so far.

"I understand, sir," he said. "A siege or battle is a very likely outcome. In truth, I'd much rather solve this with words—perhaps Master Impa might be able to see reason. However, going up there alone is likely only going to get us shot as soon as we reveal ourselves and our purpose." He looked down at his boots for a moment, before hitching his breath slightly and looking up at Dane with brighter eyes. "However, with some leverage..."

Dane said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"With just the two of us, it will be no problem for the hunters to simply shoot us like dogs and bury us somewhere in the valley. But...if we had an army at our backs..."

"I just said—"

"You wouldn't risk an outright battle or siege, I know, sir," Ascal said hurriedly, "but it won't come to that, I am sure. Once Master Impa sees that we have your support, at the very least she should be willing to talk. To meet with us, and hear the story. If our explanation corroborates with her nephew's more...unusual acts, as well as the presence of a Hylian noble he brought with him, then perhaps she will even question Sheik and his companion directly, or let us speak with him..."

"And then an understanding can be reached," Dane said. "If her nephew or his companion confess to their acts, she will have no choice but to turn them over." He nodded. "Yes, that might work...but it is still risky."

"Indeed...but sir, is it worth waiting until they are both too far gone and beastly, and they attack, kill, and possibly infect more hunters? Instead of two, you might have sixty potential lycanthropes, all holed up in a fortress, ready to pounce on this village at a moment's notice. I am in no way doubting your men's abilities, sir, but they are trained to handle other soldiers, not monsters."

Ascal stood up as well, moving towards the small library, giving the titles a cursory read. Books on politics, military tactics, history...and even a few bestiaries more at home at the Studio than here. Dane liked to be well-read on most relevant topics to his job, it seemed.

"I would much rather nip this in the bud than risk that," Dane agreed, looking out the window, taking in the view of the ridge that ended in that fateful drop. "Give me some time to consider it, Mister Silver. Perhaps we can find a solution to this that won't end in bloodshed."

"Of course, sir," Ascal said, bowing slightly, mirrored by Art.

"In the meantime, the hospitality of Whiteridge is yours. I will have the guest rooms prepared. I would suggest you stay off the streets in the coming days—it's Sunday, and the last week of the month begins tomorrow. Hunters tend to come visit and trade with us during this time. I assume you'll want to remain hidden until we've come up with a plan?"

"Of course, and thank you for the warning, sir."

"Very well—I will send for you once I've made my decision. Let the guards know if you need anything."

With that, their audience with the mayor was over, and they were politely led to a pair of guest rooms on the third floor. The one who escorted them was none other than Rane, who looked none-too-happy about having hunters under his roof.

"Don't think I'm not watching you," he warned (or, more accurately, snarled at them) before stomping away. "Fucking hunters," he muttered under his breath.

Well inside Ascal's room, the two non-hunters took a few moments to consider the situation. "So, we're hunters now?" Art asked.

"Temporarily, yes," Ascal said. "Technically, I still am. I was never formally expelled from the brotherhood, and I never gave any of the ones who came after me the chance to do so."

"Hm," Art grunted. "Don't like it."

"Neither do I, but we have a job to do, and we're not leaving before it's done. Dehl is holding the fort in Hyrule—she'll keep things under control until we return."

Art didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to the large window that overlooked the village and stared towards the market. Something that could possibly (with a lot of goodwill) be described as longing shone in his eyes, and Ascal wanted to throw up.

"Thinking of a certain lass with fiery hair, are we?" he asked.

"She's good with pastries," Art said with no hint of embarrassment or shame.

"I will never understand you, Arthur."

"Wouldn't want to anyway, boss." He suddenly scowled, and Ascal quickly joined him. The object of his cohort's dislike was arguing animatedly with a group of watchmen, gesturing wildly and pointing in the direction of the Studio. "Don't like the little snot-nosed whelp," Art grunted.

"He's a little abrasive, I agree, but who isn't at his age? He's what...eighteen? Nineteen? All that youthful bluster and pride...to some it is their undoing, for others it is a crutch until they gain experience and maturity." Ascal bit his lip. "Young Rane is just like any other young man—and full of anger, to boot. Anger that can, shall we say, be redirected towards a better purpose..."

Art looked at him, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You got a plan?"

"Always, Arthur, my lad," Ascal said, smiling back. "And I believe young Rane will be rather pivotal for this one."

* * *

Hours had passed since the infirmary door had last opened, And Sheik was just about insane with worry—not even Lor's presence could keep him occupied, despite the younger boy's frequent attempts...all an attempt to cover up Lor's own worry, of course. But then the lock clicked open, and Doctor Kaura looked absolutely exhausted as she emerged from the room within, leaning against the door with a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. She took a pair of deep puffs as she took in the expectant faces of Sheik, Kafei, and Mana. Her smile was wry, and she nodded.

"He's still alive, if you're wondering," she said casually, though her voice was anything but. It sounded strained, and the fatigue was palpable. Her sagging shoulders certainly didn't make her look any more awake either. To Sheik, it looked as if she was about to fall over at any moment. But right then, he didn't care. Knowing Link was still alive drowned out everything else. He stepped forward, about to ask to see him, but Kaura shook her head, her eyes suddenly sharp behind her spectacles. She still looked fierce, despite her hair coming loose from her bun and falling every which way. "Not yet, kid. He needs rest. A _lot_ of rest. And there's some tests I'd like to perform first."

"Tests?" Sheik asked. "What kind of tests? Is he all right? Was he poisoned? It was just a lycan, wasn't it?"

Kafei and Mana had stressed that whatever they'd been hunting was far from a lycan, but their description only matched that particular creature, so what was Sheik to think? They weren't coherent enough in their explanation anyway, and he'd yet to hear anything from his aunt, who was still presumably examining the carcass with some of the other veteran hunters.

"I don't know enough about your beasts to make that classification," Kaura said, sounding disinterested in engaging in a taxonomic debate. "What I do know is what I have seen tonight, and what I _have_ seen requires some further examinations and tests. Right now, there is one particular test I'd like to perform on the creature in question's body. It still contains blood, yes?"

She directed the last question towards Mana and Kafei, who nodded.

"Unless Impa and the others have bled it," Kafei said.

"Good," Kaura said and knocked on the infirmary door. Erd emerged from within, making sure to close it behind him too quickly for the others to be able to look inside. He was carrying a bag and a strange-looking apparatus—like a telescope pointing straight into a metal plate. Inside, Sheik heard the click of a deadbolt sliding in place, locking the infirmary from within.

_Why on earth would they want to keep us out?_ he thought, his worry for Link suddenly spiking again. Could it be that he was actually dead, and Kaura simply wasn't willing to reveal it just yet? Why? That didn't make sense—she didn't lie about these things. She wasn't the type. Brutal honesty with the sharpness of a scalpel was more her way.

"Right, got everything?" she asked the more jovial twin, who nodded. "Off we go, then. You three, with us. I have some information you'll all be interested to hear, I'm sure."

Lor was kept out of the group, which was understandable since he wasn't actually a hunter, but he looked disappointed nonetheless. "I will stay here and keep an eye on the door," he said ruefully, giving Sheik a weak smile.

There was nothing else to do, even if Sheik wanted to remain at the infirmary and simply stare at the door until someone inside took pity and let him in. Kaura seemed to read his mind, and simply grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him along. He knew better than to resist.

"He is still alive, Sheik," she said, and that alone made him follow with his own two feet.

_She never calls me Sheik,_ he thought. He wasn't sure what that meant...only that what she had to say was important.

They found Impa on one of the upper levels of the dungeons, several floors above Bob's cellblock. The lycan's existence was still a secret to all but a select few hunters. She was with Hafthor, Kiro, Ayla, and Elenwe. They weren't the most veteran hunters at the Studio (except maybe Hafthor), but they were among the most competent, and the ones Impa trusted most. Kafei immediately gravitated to his wife's side, and she wrapped her remaining arm around his shoulders right away, letting him sag against her.

They were standing around a stretch bench, on which they'd put the body of the lycan...and Sheik immediately understood why Kafei and Mana had protested against that classification. The beast was absolutely _gigantic_ , easily twice the size of the biggest recorded lycanthrope, and dwarfing the bench, its arms and legs hanging off the sides.

It was on its back, revealing its belly. The front was covered in fine, short, grey and white fur, while the coat on its back seemed longer and shaggier. Red-brown flecks of dried blood stained the fur here and there. Deep gouges had been cut into it here and there—Link's handiwork, since the wounds looked like they'd been seared shut.

Its snout was pointing into the air, full of straight, bloody, razor-sharp teeth. The back of its head was an exploded mess (Link had put a bullet straight into its mouth), but the rest of it...it looked like a perfectly normal (if absolutely enormous) wolf's head. Nothing like the malformed shape of a lycanthrope.

Tight cords of muscles could be seen all over its body—nary an ounce of fat anywhere to be found. The creature was a powerhouse, and dangerous. Mana had been nursing a headache since it slammed her with its long, shaggy tail.

"What the hell is that?"

He realised it was he himself who'd said it out loud, and he found himself surprised when the other occupants of the room didn't have an answer.

"We haven't got a damn clue," Ayla said, poking at its muzzle with her fingers. "My money'd be on a lycanthrope, but this looks more like an actual wolf with humanoid features, rather than the opposite."

Impa was glaring down at the thing before looking at the new arrivals. "How is he?" she asked, surprising Sheik by actually asking about Link.

"He lives, for now," Kaura said, not even looking at Sheik when the boy turned his outrage gaze on her. "I need a blood sample from this thing, as well as one of you."

"Take mine," Impa said immediately, offering her arm.

"Erd, take hers," Kaura ordered the scientist. "I will take the beast's." Two syringes were filled with blood from the beast and the Sheikah, and brought to a table at the other end of the room. "I also need more light on all sides."

She set up the strange telescope-like contraption, and squeezed a small drop of the monster's blood from the syringe onto the metal plate, looking into the telescope. She made a few humming sounds, and gestured towards Erd. "Same cells, same patterns. The abnormality definitely came from the creature."

Erd wrote this down. "Same movements as well?" he asked.

"A little more sluggish, but that's to be expected since the blood has begun to coagulate...though far slower than it would have in any other creature." Kaura leaned back, and reached for the syringe containing Impa's blood. This, too, she squeezed a drop of onto the plate and looked back into the telescope. Her shoulders seemed to sag even further, as if disappointed by the result. "Same reaction," she said, her voice tight.

"They're changing?" Erd asked.

"Yes—the process is slower, presumably due to the creature's death, but it is definitely manipulating and modifying the normal cells—"

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?!" Sheik found himself shouting, unable to keep himself calm any longer. His nails were biting deep furrows into the palms of his hands, his urge to reach out and shake the purple-haired physician until she started speaking intelligibly nearly taking over. "What are you even _doing_?!"

Kaura sighed and turned towards the room full of curious—and one set of outraged—eyes. "There is no easy way to explain this, so I will simply go with what I know so far. Is that fair?"

"Go ahead, doctor," Hafthor said politely, the giant of a man clearly cowed by the woman's strict tone. Come to think of it, she sort of reminded Sheik of Reno. They had similar builds and demeanours...though Reno was far more prone to exploding now and then.

"Right," Kaura said, closing her eyes and removing her spectacles, rubbing the bridge of her nose where they had dug deep grooves into the skin. "So, when your lad was brought into the infirmary and onto my table, I knew he was a goner."

Sheik's stomach plunged, but Impa's sudden hand on his shoulder kept him from saying anything.

"There was simply nothing left of his neck. His muscles and tendons were shredded, veins torn to pieces, trachea all but functional...it was a miracle he was even still alive by the time you got here." She looked at Mana and Kafei. "I'm honestly surprised you didn't leave him out there, but I digress. The boy was dying, that much was clear to me, but he was still bleeding, he was still breathing. As a doctor, it is my duty to do everything in my power to save lives, and so I vowed that I would do so for him, even if I expected him to expire at any second.

"But it didn't happen. He continued to breathe, and he continued to bleed. He bled so much, I had to get the girl to pour sand on the floor to soak it up and prevent myself from slipping on it. I was too busy trying to repair what I could to notice it, but by the time I realised something was off and asked for a transfusion, he had bled far more than a person is capable of.

"It was like his body was continually producing more blood at an incredible pace, to keep him alive. How he was able to draw breath through that ruined windpipe is beyond me, but it continued to function...somewhat. But what bothered me the most was the blood, so I had one of the twins draw the boy's blood in order to check his type, so I could ask for donors...but there was something wrong with it."

Kaura took another deep drag of her cigarette before stomping it out on the floor, seemingly ignoring her enraptured audience.

"To put it simply, the monster's blood was mingling with his. Presumably, some of it was introduced to his system when it bit him, or when he shot it in the head, I don't know, it's hard to say for certain, but the fact remains that its blood was running through his veins...and changing him."

As a group, they all stepped back from the dead creature, looking at it and her with shock.

"Changing him? What do you mean?" Sheik asked, seemingly the only one able to find his voice.

"What the changes mean is still beyond me," Kaura said. "I need to perform more tests, but the first, immediate reaction is this: it's healing him. The beast's blood has increased his body's natural healing capabilities to the point where it's hundreds, if not thousands of times faster than normal. His body _was_ producing blood fast enough to keep up with his injuries, his body _was_ healing itself enough to keep him alive until I could begin my work. I sewed wounds, and they would start knitting themselves together and scar over right away. I performed an experiment—I cut the top of his hand with a scalpel, and it healed in minutes. There's a small scar, but I anticipate it will be gone by the time I return to the infirmary. Muscles grew back, and skin regenerated itself."

She leaned back and undid her bun completely, beyond caring what state they saw her in.

"He's alive, and he's stable. His wounds are mostly healed, though given how traumatic they were, I imagine he won't be fully healed for quite a few days or weeks yet...but he will not be dying anytime soon...at least not from his wounds. There are a few injuries I fear will be permanent, as his body's new ability did not seem to consider them priorities to fix, but perhaps it will simply wait until the rest of him is completely fine...but what do I know? I've never seen anything like this, and frankly I wish I never had."

Relieved to the point where Sheik was mostly being held up by Impa's strong grip around his waist, Sheik still managed to find something to worry about. "Permanent injuries? What do you mean?"

"You must realise that there was barely anything left of his neck," Kaura said. "There are some things that not even the most skilled surgeon would be able to repair...the larynx, for one." At the blank stare she received from Sheik, she sighed. "His voice box," she clarified. "I'm sorry, but unless his body decides to repair it on its own, chances are he will lose the ability to speak."

Exhaustion, despair, or whatever it was, suddenly seized him, and not even Impa could hold him up this time as Sheik sank to his knees, staring at the stone floor.

_Speak? Link will be mute?_

To never hear his beautiful voice again...

Impa kneeled down next to him. "I think we're all a little overwhelmed by these news," she said quietly. "Kafei, Elenwe, will you please take Sheik back to his cell? I think he needs some rest. As do you, Kafei. Mana—"

"I'm staying," the elder Sheikah said stubbornly.

"Very well."

Sheik was dimly aware of being hauled to his feet by strong arms, and gently steered through halls and up several sets of stairs. Only when he recognised a certain corridor did he stop. Lor was still sitting outside the infirmary, staring at the door.

"I want to see him," Sheik muttered.

"Cousin, Impa said—"

"I don't care; I want to see him. You can go to bed, but I'll stay here!"

There was a murmured conversation behind him, and Kafei released him and patted his shoulder gently. "All right, but I'll send up some food and water for you. Can't have you passing out in case he wakes up, eh?"

"Don't exhaust yourself, all right?" Elenwe's voice was to his left, and she kissed his cheek before leaving with Kafei. Sheik took several wobbly steps towards Lor, his attention only on the door. If only he could batter it down...

* * *

Back in the dungeons, Kaura was detailing some of the experiments she was going to perform to ascertain exactly what was happening to Link, though she sounded anything but confident about his chances.

"...but this is all hypotheses and theories, nothing I can say for certain," she finished. "If only my teacher could see me now. She'd think me insane."

Impa was glaring at the creature's body. She had some thoughts about exactly what this thing was, but she needed to consult some books before she could say anything for sure, and so kept it to herself. She turned to Kaura, voicing instead a question that had been burning since the concept of Link being healed by the thing's blood came along.

"If the blood can heal him," she began, catching the others' attention, "what else do you think it can do?"

Kaura had evidently been prepared for that query, and answered it with a very eloquent shrug. "I have no idea," she said. "My tests will hopefully reveal more of that, but until then the only change I am absolutely sure of is his healing ability. For all we know, something else might occur once he is well enough...which is why I have taken the liberty of having him restrained. He is chained to the table by his wrists and ankles, and a powerful brace over his middle. Ard has assured me it will hold anything short of a troll...however strong those are."

Impa nodded. "That...is good to hear. I don't like the idea of restraining him like a prisoner, but we must take everyone else here into consideration."

"I will of course do my best to ascertain his condition as quickly as possible, to facilitate his release, but..."

An uncomfortable gloom fell over the room. Impa wanted to slam her head into the wall. Once, just once, she wanted something to go _right_ , with minimal complications...but the world absolutely had it in for her, it seemed.

Ayla cleared her throat. "Not that we know what will happen, but contingencies are meant to be planned for," she said. "What do we do if he...begins to turn?"

"Into what?" Mana asked. "A lycan?"

"No, into _that_ ," the Gerudo said, pointing at the dead beast. "For all we know, that might be what's happening right now. We need to plan for every possible outcome we can foresee...and that's the biggest one I can imagine right now. So...what do we do?"

"If he begins turning into something like this," Impa said firmly, knowing she had no choice but to be strong in her opinion on this matter. "I cannot...we cannot let him suffer such a fate, nor put everyone else at risk. We will do what is necessary. For the brotherhood."

The clang of her cane's tip slamming into stone punctuated her statement, and every soul in the room suddenly felt a little colder.

Do what is necessary.

That could mean so much...


	45. The Decision

It took Link several days to wake up, and when he did it was not gentle. It was pure chance that Sheik happened to be on watch at the time, grouchily poking at the thick chains that held his lover's body firmly to the infirmary bench. The links, made to withstand a troll, were so big it made Link (haha) look positively tiny, and the metal brace around his waist barely gave him any room to move in his, thankfully, mostly restful sleep. That, however, seemed to be mostly a blessing when the nightmares came.

As Kaura had suspected, Link's voice was gone. The only sounds he could make were whimpers and broken howls, and Sheik could scarcely imagine the sort of tormenting images that could have the Ordonian writhing like possessed on the bench, the veins in his newly-healed neck bulging as he strained against his bonds, teeth grinding together so hard Sheik was worried they'd crack. His lips moved silently, forming words that would probably never be heard.

Sheik's presence helped, for some reason. Just being in the room staved the worst of the nightmares away, and a gentle touch and whispered words into Link's ears could calm him down when it seemed his body was ready to tear itself apart trying to break free from the chains. As such, he was called by whoever was on guard whenever Link began to move, to stop the Hylian from potentially hurting himself...or so they said.

He'd been outraged when he'd been told the hunters'...backup plan. To simply put a bullet in Link's head in case he showed signs of becoming more than just the fastest healer in the world, to put him down like a rabid dog. How could they decide that, like it was nothing? Link had been fought and _bled_ for the hunters several times so far, had even saved the lives of _three_ Sheikah by now. Wasn't that enough to give him the benefit of the doubt? Besides, it was ridiculous—if the thing he'd been bit by wasn't a lycan, then he wasn't about to turn into one either! True, he had been _somewhat_ changed by the monster's blood, but so far Sheik had yet to see his lover sprout fur or grow a tail—and he was prepared to at least wait and _see_ what happened, instead of simply demanding to have be over and done with.

It was impossible to keep such a secret from the other hunters. Even if the group that was allowed into the torture chamber, where the creature's body lay, or the infirmary kept their mouths shut, a good number of hunters had already seen the monster's carcass, as well as Link's injuries before the many revelations had come about. Every day, when Sheik was being forced to have meals and spend time outside the infirmary (for his own good, supposedly), he heard the whispers and felt the eyes upon him. No one spoke to him directly about it, of course, but the implications were there...and he hated them for it. These were the people who'd welcomed and applauded Link's dedication to the hunters even before he became a recruit, and now they simply wanted to put an end to him without even giving him a chance.

Zelda, Tao, Lor, and Kaura were firmly on his side. The princess had begun fixing every hunter who whispered of putting Link to sleep with the fiercest glares she could muster, while Tao had begun sabotaging their food with too-large-pinches of salt or vinegar while Lor distracted them. Nothing harmful, of course, they were better than that. Kaura never declared her support with big words or grand gestures, but her insistence that Link was _her patient_ whenever someone asked about his status, with a tone that threatened very painful consequences should anyone attempt to practice a little doctoring of their own on him.

The rest...well, he was fairly certain Kafei, Kiro, Mana, and Elenwe were in his corner, at least when it came allowing Link to actually wake up and prove himself no different than before, instead of killing him immediately. Kafei and Mana in particularly because he'd saved their lives. Elenwe because...well, again, he'd saved Kafei's life. Kiro...Sheik had no idea why he was in their camp, but Sheik appreciated it nonetheless. Apparently, Link's marksmanship had impressed him enough to win him over. Hopefully, Link would have more time to impress the big-hatted Sheikah.

The twins, Ard and Erd, were completely neutral. Neither of them liked the idea of killing Link, but they weren't as emotionally involved. Mostly, they were curious about what the beast's blood was doing to Link, and what consequences his encounter with it would have. The accelerated healing ability alone was enough to have them advocating for keeping Link alive for now. They came by every day to draw blood and do tests, discussing their hypotheses with Sheik and Kaura. Erd tried to be comforting, but it did not have the desired effect.

As for Impa, Hafthor, and Ayla...well, Sheik hadn't spoken a word to them since they'd told him of their contingency plan. Impa wanted to wait until he woke up, while Hafthor had (in his words) regretfully admitted he wanted Link put down immediately. He was a risk to everyone at the Studio, not just himself, after all. The needs of the many, and so on and so forth. Ayla had simply apologised, but not budged on her position, citing the same argument as Hafthor. He'd barred them all from the infirmary, and the others had, thankfully, helped to keep them out. As Master Hunter, Impa could technically go where she pleased, but she respected her current banishment with good grace.

Sheik was, to his embarrassment, brooding when Link began to stir again. He'd wondered just how badly things could go after this, and if they'd reached absolute bottom yet ( _Not a bloody chance,_ he thought). The clanks of chains brought him out of his reveries, and he immediately moved his chair closer to the bench, preparing to comfort and calm Link down, to save him from his nightmares...

...but then Link made a sound that could only be described as a whine, and his eyes slammed open, irises opening widely to take in what little light there was. At first, his eyes seemed like normal, but the colour was...off. Link's eyes had, in Sheik's opinion, always looked like sapphires, deep blue and shining...but now, the pupils had flecks and rings of lighter blue in them, giving them an icy, cold look. When they focused on Sheik, they widened slightly, then narrowed. His teeth, thankfully normal, were bared, and Link began struggling against his bonds. The almost white skin of his healed neck, extending from his just under his jaw to an inch below his clavicle, all that remained of the nasty scars everyone had assumed he'd be left with, even with his exceptionally fast healing, tightened, the tendons beneath rippling as they worked.

"Link, it's me, Sheik," Sheik said gently, hoping his voice would help Link calm, like it had when asleep, but the Hylian showed no sign of stopping as he kept thrashing, pulling at his chains and bucking against the brace. To Sheik's horror, the brace began to bend. "Shh, it's all right," he continued, "you're safe. You're alive and well."

Link opened his mouth in a silent scream, realised he wasn't making any sounds, and snarled instead, his body going rigid and pulling hard against his bonds. The brace bent some more, and Sheik was now on his feet, trying to make Link look into his eyes, but the Hylian was shaking his head back and forth, breathing heavily.

"Link! Listen to me! You're safe!"

Sheik considered calling for help, but it was past midnight, and he doubted anyone who came to assist would think twice about considering Link too far gone to be saved. No, he was on his own for now.

Link was awake, but he was definitely not all there. Perhaps he still thought he was being held in the grips of the beast? It would certainly feel like it, with his arms and legs restrained as they were. No amount of words or looks would bring him back from his stupor...but could touch? Sheik had the idea one second, and in the next he found himself climbing onto the bench, straddling Link's hips and leaning down, bringing their faces as close together as possible. He reached out, and gently laid his hands on Link's cheeks, forcing his head to remain still, and for their eyes to meet.

"Link!" Sheik called, knocking their foreheads together. "Wake up! I'm here, you're here, we're both safe!"

The moment skin met skin, Link calmed immediately. But it wasn't the words that calmed him. No, it was something else. Turning his head slightly, Link breathed in through his nose, deeply. Whatever scent he caught, it was enough to turn his body into jelly, flopping boneless against the bench. He whined again, and then buried his nose in the crook of Sheik's neck, inhaling deeply.

_Is he..._ smelling _me?_ Sheik thought, blushing slightly at the very obvious _reaction_ Link had as he continued to explore Sheik's neck with his nose. He bucked slightly, which brought the growing hardness into contact with Sheik's bottom, and _that_ had Sheik's face burning like it was on _fire_!

"Link!" he exclaimed once more, pulling back and making the Hylian look at him. Link whined a little at the loss of contact, but he seemed more focused now. More...grounded. "You're all right," he repeated. "You're back at the Studio—you saved Kafei and Mana, and they dragged you back here."

Link opened his mouth, and his tongue and lips formed words, but all that came out was a rough croak. He looked confused, and cleared his throat experimentally. From the way he winced, it must have hurt, and Sheik quickly clambered off the table (and Link, ignoring the Hylian's pitiful whine at the loss of contact), fetching him some water. It wouldn't help his voice, but Link must have been parched anyway.

"Here, drink this," Sheik said, carefully tipping the cup so the water slowly flowed into Link's mouth. Link swallowed deeply, looking a little more comfortable than before, but another attempt at speaking had him coughing. "Careful," Sheik muttered, putting the cup away. "There's..." he sighed. "There's no easy way to say this, Link, and I think you'd appreciate candour, so...when you were brought back, there was almost nothing left of your throat...Kaura managed to patch most of you up, but vocal chords are beyond her."

Link paused, staring up at Sheik, eyes wide and full of...fear?

"She says...chances are you will never be able to speak again," Sheik finished lamely, unsure of how to even approach the subject of Link's other...changes. At his lover's slight gasp, however, he decided to put it off for now. The almost guaranteed loss of his voice was bad enough. "But you'll be all right," Sheik said quickly, leaning in closer, which seemed to calm Link down again (perhaps his scent was relaxing, something familiar...though Sheik couldn't help but wonder exactly _what_ he smelled like). He heard the sudden breaths through the Hylian's nose, and his entire body seemed to release tension again. "Tao is going to teach you his sign language—and me too, so we both can communicate with it—and we'll get you a chit to write down your words for those who can't, and...and..."

Link was shaking his head, denying it and trying to speak more, but every little croak that escaped his once-ruined throat seemed to sap him of strength, the light in his eyes fading more and more when what he tried to say went unheard. Tears—of frustration? Of anger?—began to gather, and were soon running down the sides of his face, his breaths becoming sobs.

"Link," Sheik whispered, once again putting his forehead against Link's, "I promise you, it'll be all right. I know it's hard, but you'll...we'll make it work, and everything will be like before. You'll become a hunter, and we'll be partners, never apart again. We'll go back to Hyrule with Zelda, and we'll run the workshop there together. I'll be with you every step of the way—I'm not leaving, _ever_ , you understand?"

_And if my aunt doesn't like it, she can go kiss Bob for all I care!_

He was rambling, none of his promises particularly considered or eloquently put, but they seemed to have the desired effect, Link nodding along with them, especially when he promised never to leave him.

To punctuate it, as a promise, Sheik kissed him, running his tongue along Link's chapped lips, enjoying the way the Hylian quickly adapted to his newly discovered muteness, forcing air through his throat in a way that produced a growl-like rumble...which sent shivers down Sheik's back. Then Link began kissing back, and it was...aggressive, like he would be pinning Sheik down if he himself wasn't chained to the bench.

He seemed to notice this annoyance, and pulled away from the kiss, rattling the chains and giving Sheik a questioning look.

"You...were thrashing around a lot in your sleep, had a lot of nightmares," Sheik said, figuring that telling Link the other hunters were strongly considering putting a bullet in his skull if he proved dangerous wouldn't be the greatest way to keep him calm and rested. "We didn't want you to hurt yourself...or anyone else, when you were tossing and turning. I'll get the keys to release you...but first..."

Sheik let a smirk cross his face, and he leaned down again, pausing just out of reach of Link's mouth.

"I'm going to catch up on what we missed while you were asleep."

His tone was sultry, and Link definitely enjoyed it, as he made that rumbling sound again as Sheik let their lips meet once more...and the kiss was far more heated this time, from both sides.

As Sheik continued to distract Link from the unfortunate situation, he imagined how he would tackle the remaining hunters...and made a decision right then and there. If they tried to hurt Link...

...he would hurt _them_.


	46. The Plan

He'd always preferred night-time to daytime whenever he stayed at the Studio. Kafei found other people noisy and bothersome, especially when he was trying to think. He'd never on his life claim to be a great thinker—he was quite sure physicians who specialised in the mind would love nothing more than to study him at length, trying to figure out whether he was actually insane, or if he was teetering on that very precarious ledge between insanity and...well, not genius. They'd have to invent a new term for it, he was sure.

No, he was no philosopher, and certainly no scientist like the twins. His thinking revolved around life in general, and, usually, how much he'd hate it if it weren't for Elenwe. Sheik, too, but he didn't get to see his beloved cousin very often, unfortunately. When he wasn't thinking along those lines, he liked to go over the major events in his life, trying to see them from new angles, new perspectives. It rarely yielded anything of use, but it helped him find some semblance of fatigue so he could go to sleep.

Elenwe had long since given up on trying to find _other_ ways to exhaust him enough to have him drop into a coma-like slumber, entertaining as they may be, and had simply made peace with the fact that her husband made nightly rounds of the fortress, or wherever else they were staying, knowing he was smart enough to avoid dangerous situations where he did not have backup.

It was one of these nightly rounds, about a week after Link had woken up from his, mildly put, miraculous recovery period, and his thoughts were unsurprisingly revolving around this, as well as the failed hunt that put him in the infirmary to begin with. He'd managed, with a lot of help (and head-smacking) from Elenwe and the others, that it wasn't his fault...though he still carried a heavy burden of guilt. He should have gotten to Link faster, before the damn wolf-monster had managed to tear his throat to pieces...

He shook his head and turned a corner, his heels clicking against the flagstones and throwing echoes of every step along the corridors. The complete silence of the fortress, which was usually so loud and filled with voices, was eerie to most—to him it was heaven. He focused on his mental map of the place, trying to ignore the images burned into his retinae, of Link's bloodied body beneath the monster's carcass...

Another corner, and down a short flight of stairs...and he paused. Sheik had tripped here once, and sliced up his knee quite badly. It was an injury his cousin still felt on cold days, Kafei knew, even if Sheik refused to acknowledge it in front of other hunters, embarrassment crossing his face whenever someone mentioned it.

Kafei glared at the step he knew was responsible. Impa had had the edge ground down until it was round and no danger to anyone whatsoever...along with the rest of the steps. Unfortunately, that had taken enough stone off to make the steps unusually small...and so Kafei had taken to counting how many hunters stumbled as they climbed them up or down. He'd gotten to forty-seven so far, not including the ones he hadn't personally seen.

Continuing on his way, he went through the large doors and into the workshops. The massive room was still like a furnace—the massive fires smouldering in the forges. Even here, silence reigned supreme at night...or it was supposed to, at least. From one of the small nooks the hunters used for their work, he heard the sound of metal sliding against metal, and growled curses.

Kafei realised which workshop it came from, and smiled as he headed towards it, knocking on the wood beam from which the curtain hung. Pointless, since his footsteps had long since given his presence away, but politeness was important in a civilised society (a description only Impa would use for the powder keg that was a gathering of hunters).

"Come in," sang Kiro's voice, and Kafei grinned as he pulled the curtain aside, revealing Kiro at his workbench, tinkering with...was that...?

"Is that a rapid?" he asked, ignoring proper greetings and social conventions. Kiro didn't seem to mind, grinning and nodding.

"A genuine Zukov, indeed," he said. "We had a small stash of them in the armoury, in various states if disrepair. Managed to scrounge up enough parts for a complete one, but it's a bastard to put together. Had to get Hafthor to make a few adjustments to the frame, and I can only hope it doesn't fuck up the rest of the mechanism..."

"But why?" Kafei asked. "These things are ancient—the maintenance time alone is ridiculous!"

"Yes, well, a certain recruit doesn't like using gunpowder, so I had to find him an alternative for ranged combat. I just have to get it working—it'll be _his_ problem to maintain it. I even found some old manuals and transcribed them to new paper, so he'll have something to study when he gets out of...of..."

Kiro trailed off, shaking his head and picking up a magnifier lens, leaning closer to get a better look at a complicated set of springs and cogs.

"He'll be fine," Kafei said. He enjoyed silence—he hated the awkward kind. "He's already out of the woods, injury-wise—"

"That's not what worries me," Kiro said, carefully extracting a broken spring and replacing it with a newer-looking, intact one. "With the way they're talking, they're just waiting for an excuse to drag him into the courtyard and put a bullet in his head. Hell, they might not need an excuse, if their paranoia gnaws at them for long enough."

Kafei leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He hated it, but he had to admit Kiro was right. "And this place isn't helping," he said. "Being cooped up in this damn pass..."

"Breeds suspicion, it does," Kiro agreed. He delicately replaced the panel, picked up the main body and pulled at the cocking mechanism. It didn't move. "Shit," he muttered. "I'm torn between being utterly impressed with the intricacy of the mechanics...and cursing old Vladimir for not providing better notes. It's no wonder he was killed by one of these things when it misfired—bastard probably had no idea how it worked anymore."

"Well, he lived to the ripe old age of ninety—he must've been mental by then."

Kiro chuckled and put the thing down, turning to his fellow Sheikah. "So, apart from being wracked by guilt for an accident you had no way of preventing, how are you? How's E?"

"Can't complain on my part," Kafei said with a shrug. "E slugged me in the face for moping around about it. I forgot how mean her left hook is."

Kiro laughed. "There's a reason I never volunteered for the boxing matches against her after the first time."

"I remember," Kafei said, recalling that particular evening. Kiro had lasted about two minutes, and had managed to land a single punch, "Did you ever find your tooth?"

"Lost to the ages, my friend," Kiro said, apparently calling it a night (almost morning) for the Zukov, shoving it away and opening a drawer. Kafei recognised the label on the clear glass bottle he withdrew, and the amber liquid within. How the perpetually broke Kiro had managed to afford it, he didn't want to know. "Join me?" Kiro asked.

"I'll pass," Kafei said, grimacing at how much of an arse he'd made of himself the last time he'd indulged.

Kiro seemed to remember too, grimacing. "Ah, right. Sorry. Still banned, eh?" He took a draught straight from the bottle, and Kafei could swear he heard the cries of a thousand noblemen, mourning the lack of proper drinking etiquette.

"Impa watches me like a hawk at mealtimes, and E does it whenever else." He tried to ignore the sudden desire he had to grab the bottle from Kiro and treat the drink within the way it deserved, proper glass and all. "I'm lucky I didn't blow my own brains out."

"Not going to argue with that," Kiro said, nodding. "You're lucky Sheik was there—especially if it had been loaded."

"He always knows how to talk me down," Kafei said fondly. "Little runt could probably overpower me if he wanted, but he prefers to use his silver tongue instead—"

"Silver to a drunkard, maybe," Kiro said, chuckling. "Definitely not around his Hylian. I swear, it's like his mind takes a short holiday, and his words just fail him. Granted, he probably puts that tongue to better use when they—"

"Thank you, I do _not_ need those mental images," Kafei interrupted, shaking his head. "In my mind, my cousin is as innocent as the day he was born."

"He's worse than your or me, I can promise you that." Kiro grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "He _has_ been staying at a whorehouse, after all. He's bound to have picked up a few techniques here and there, if only from observation. Perhaps he's even—"

"Do you want to live to see morning, _Kiro-chan_?" Kafei asked sweetly. "Then I suggest you don't imply that my darling baby cousin has solicited negotiable affection."

"Not at all," the target of his ire said with feigned shock and horror. "I'm just saying that one of the companions he brought here, that Lorasi boy, may have shown Sheiky the proper way to treat a partner."

"If he has, I may have to kill him."

"Eh, from what I understand, he has taken a shine to Ard, anyway, so you don't need to worry."

That threw a wrench into the delicate machinery of Kafei's head. "...Ard?" he asked. "As in, prickly, glares-like-knives, more-likely-to-use-you-for-experiments-than-anything-else Ard?"

Kiro nodded.

"Ard. White hair, about yay high? Twin of Erd, in everything but personality?"

Kiro nodded again, grinning wider.

" _Ard_ , who once threatened to pour a beaker of—"

"The very same," Kiro interrupted. "I know it's hard for that highly-strung mind of yours to even consider Ard to have emotions, much less physical _desires_ , but...yes, it appears Lorasi is interested in...in all that."

"This is it," Kafei moaned, collapsing onto the small pallet in the corner. "This is where my sanity becomes _in_ sanity!"

"A wolf monster we've never seen before grants Link the ability to regrow his _neck_ through an accidental blood transfusion, and _this_ is where your mind gives in?" Kiro joined him on the pallet, resulting in a short elbow fight as they struggled to take up more space. "Sounds like a snap long in the making."

"You have no idea..."

"Well, if it helps, Lorasi's yet to make a move—he's biding his time, learning the ways of his prey, waiting for the opportune moment to strike."

Kafei blinked at his slightly younger kinsman. "Are you comparing it to a _hunt_?"

Kiro shrugged. "I compare everything to it," he said. "Life's more interesting that way."

An hour or so later, as he retreated to the tower room he shared with Elenwe, Kafei had to reconsider his worldview. And as for his doubts about his mental wellbeing...well, at least he knew there was someone out there who was even _worse_...

...and that was just terrifying.

* * *

The laboratory was unusually quiet that night. Erd had gone to bed earlier than usual due to a headache, leaving his brother and Lor to their work. Lor was, as usual, transferring the twins' research notes into proper books and making them actually readable...which was, to his surprise, getting easier. He wondered whether that was because he was improving at deciphering the horrible handwriting, or if the twins were actively trying to improve due to the embarrassment of how difficult it was to read. Every now and then, he'd also stand up and stretch his leg, now free of the stabilising frame since it had healed enough for him to walk with just a crutch now.

Ard, on the other hand, was silently tinkering with the electrical generator, as he was wont to do whenever he found himself with free time. They were running a barrage of tests on various samples of Link's blood, and right now they were simply waiting for the results...leaving them with little to do. The less talkative of the twins was something of a nocturnal individual, preferring to work late into the night whenever he could. Fewer interruptions, was his reasoning.

_"He just prefers the solitude,"_ Erd had told him. _"He gets nervous easily around people, especially those he doesn't know very well."_

At first, Lor had wondered if that group included him, but seeing as Ard seemingly had no problems with working in the same room as him, he figured probably not. He still hardly spoke to Lor, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. It was when the glaring started he should feel nervous, Erd had cheerfully claimed.

Lor realised he'd been staring at Ard for at least a minute by now, fascinated by the slight pink of the white-haired scientist's tongue poking out from between his lips, too concentrated on getting the damn thing to stop shocking him to notice, and quickly refocused on his own efforts...and failing miserably.

_"People are quick to judge him, consider him hostile and not worth the effort to befriend,"_ Erd had said. _"But they don't know what we...what_ he's _been through. He doesn't speak very much because...because he was mistreated for it when we were young. Would you believe that he talked even more than I do? He wasn't shy, either, but...when they were done with him..."_

Snippets of the conversations he'd had with Erd kept resurfacing, and...well, Lor had hardly been surprised by what he'd been told. Ard showed some very familiar signs, signs he'd recognised in some of the girls at the Temple who'd come from other establishments that were less...careful with their workers. It was a coping method, a way to lessen the pain... Erd had never elaborated on what had happened to them when they were young, but Lor could easily make a few guesses.

_"Lesson one: Don't be afraid of him. His bark is far worse than his bite...though to be honest, I don't think I've ever seen him bite at all. Would you believe that I'm the fighter of us two?_ "

Lor hadn't believed him.

_"Lesson two: he doesn't enjoy speaking, but he enjoys being spoken_ to _by people he likes. Even if it's something inane and stupid—he will eat it up...even though he'll pretend to be annoyed. So if you find yourself alone with him...talk his ears off."_

No one did an annoyed face like Ard. Not even Sheik could match it when he really put effort into it.

_"Lesson three: This may seem counterintuitive, but, give this a shot..."_

Lor occasionally had the desire to think closer about the implications that Ard's own brother was teaching a virtual stranger how to make his interest in him known, but experience had taught him that entertaining thoughts like that was the path to insanity. So, instead, he decided that this was the moment, and executed his plan.

"Ard, listen to this and tell me if I've gotten something wrong, yeah?" Lor said, causing Ard to look up at him. He didn't look annoyed at this, actually, which was new. So he began reciting the long passage of, if he were honest, sheer rambling on lunar phases and their possible effects on canine beasts. It didn't lead anywhere, and had no proper conclusion, but the twins had been adamant that _all_ their notes were transcribed, so who was he to decide the ramblings wouldn't be of use at some point?

As he read, Ard ducked down to continue his work, but quietly and clearly listening to Lor's voice, and...did his shoulders just relax a little?

He read for a couple of minutes until he reached the end of the passage, looking up at the scientist. "Well?"

There was a long moment of Ard either hesitating, or gathering his thoughts, before he looked back up. "Too conversational," he said. "You don't have to write down the rest."

"Why not?" Lor asked. "It's still interesting, even if it isn't _properly_ scientifically put. Maybe we can rewrite it into something more acceptable?"

Ard froze for the briefest of moments before shrugging. He probably hadn't expected the conversation to continue. "Maybe...too busy here, though—"

"Aw, come on, you haven't been making any progress with that thing all night—you need a break anyway." And then he did as Erd had suggested, and went over to Ard...and sat down right next to him. He shoved the journal and the proper notebook into what little space remained on the table, beaming at the older man. "Besides," he continued before Ard could protest, "I need some help deciphering the chicken scratch you call writing anyway, as usual."

Had there been any onlookers to this particular action, they'd half-expect Ard to go spare, growling and biting at Lor for invading his personal space without his express permission...but that didn't happen. True, it wasn't like Ard was rejoicing at having Lor so close either, of course, but he didn't seem to mind it all that much...the hastily-hidden blush was another sign that Lor chose to interpret as a positive one.

When no more resistance was forthcoming, Lor grinned and pushed at the generator, trying to move it out of the way. It was heavy, and his position was too awkward to actually move it, but Ard took the hint and shoved it away, giving them both enough space to lean over the books. It was impossible to miss that blush, slowly creeping up the collar of his shirt and onto his cheeks, especially when Lor shuffled his chair a little closer, making sure that his knee touched Ard's beneath the table.

_"Are you sure about this? He doesn't really strike me as...touchy?"_

_"My brother is a very tactile person. He just doesn't like other people knowing that, because...well, again, past treatment."_

"So...what do you think about this?" He said, indicating the passage he'd read to Ard. "This can definitely be reworded into something dull, like you scientists are so fond of."

Ard harrumphed. "It's not boring; accurate."

"And about as exciting to read as watching paint dry, but who am I to judge?" Lor hummed. "All right, I've read enough of your notes to mimic them, so...how about this?"

Again he let his voice drone on for Ard's benefit, whose posture became less and less rigid as he went on. He grimaced a little every now and then when Lor likely used the wrong word or term (sometimes on purpose!), but he remained quiet and as close to comfortable as he seemed able to.

When he finished, Ard gave a slight shake of his head.

"Almost," he said. "Still too casual. Like this."

He grabbed the pen and began scribbling on a blank piece of paper (on top of more sketches, all with that all-too-familiar design upon them), working with Lor to produce a set of notes good enough to be considered close to proper in presentation.

As they worked, Ard didn't notice Lor moving a little closer...and a little closer...until their sides were practically pressed against each other. Heat radiated from Ard, and it was hard to tell if it was from the blush, or something else.

_"I don't know..."_

_"What does it hurt to try? I've seen the way you look at him."_

_"But what if he isn't interested?"_

_"Take it from me; he's interested. He just has no idea how to go about it. He's like...like a skittish deer. You have to take it slow, and careful...and show him clearly what you mean with your actions. Getting him to let go—that's the key. He doesn't have much experience with it, so everything will be new to him."_

_"Hmph...why are you so keen on this, anyway?"_

_"He's my brother—I want him to be happy."_

_"And you? Any paramours for the loud one?"_

_"Not really—I've never cared much for the concept. If anything, I'd consider my work to be my true love."_

_"Then how do you know he doesn't feel the same? That he doesn't...prefer his work?"_

_"If you knew what he reads when he can't sleep, you'd be as certain as I am. Call it a gift, I suppose."_

Ard was reading through something he'd just written, words halting and careful, when he suddenly paused. He glanced down, and found that Lor's hand was on his, fingers intertwined. He blinked, blinked again, and then blinked some more as his mouth continued to move, but no sound came out of it.

"Tell me if this feels wrong," Lor said quietly, leaning closer. "Tell me to stop...if you want me to."

Take it slow...well, that usually went against Lor's experience with intimacy, but he supposed he could learn. He was close enough to feel the burning heat of Ard's cheek...and rubbed his own against it. It felt awkward, and slightly uncomfortable, the sideways hug far from the first step he'd ever consider with someone...but with Ard...it felt right.

Despite Erd's reassurances, Lor was still waiting for Ard to either explode with anger, or quietly leave the room in a seething silence...he did _not_ expect for the scientists to suddenly lean into the hug, making a quiet sound of...enjoyment? Rumbling in the back of his throat, like a great cat.

Bloody hell, Lor thought. It's like purring!

From his hiding spot behind the door leading to the twins' bedrooms, cracked open just enough for him to see into the lab, Erd grinned.

Phase one, complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff!


	47. The Thing

Zelda jolted herself awake, her face inches from making contact with the surface of her porridge. Frowning, she sat up, hoping no one had noticed the undignified way she'd almost fallen asleep in her breakfast. Judging from the hastily hidden grins and muffled chuckles of the hunters around her, she'd had no such luck. Typical, really. Blushing, she tried to shovel as much of the food into her as fast as possible, wanting to leave the hall and get back to the infirmary to check up on Link.

The other Hylian...worried her. Or, more accurately, his mental state. Link bore it well, but Zelda could tell that the loss of his voice bothered him greatly. He tried not to show it, but frustration and anger would well up whenever he tried to communicate something that writing or his beginning grasp on Tao's sign language couldn't properly convey. It was a good thing Sheik was able to interpret most of these things, the two seemingly able to communicate with just looks. Whether that was a result of whatever was happening to Link or not, she didn't know, but she was glad that Sheik could help him feel less isolated.

To her, what was happening to Link was...unthinkable. Surely, a simple exchange of blood could not fundamentally change a person on a genetic level? But then...the evidence was hard to refute. She didn't know enough about the sciences at play to fully grasp what the twins and Kaura spoke of, but she didn't need to. All she had to do was look at the patch of white skin, which was rapidly turning the same colour as the rest of Link, where there had been nothing but a bloody wound; mangled flesh, cartilage, bone, and tendons. No one could heal that quickly...but Link, thanks to whatever the thing that had bit him, was. Link had consented to more tests, and any incision Kaura made closed within minutes. That, too, perturbed Link, though he did his best to hide it.

And then there were...the other changes. His eyes had changed, the blue in his pupils fading and lightening until they were icy, his hair had grown a little longer and shaggier, and his nails...they'd grown sharper, though they looked perfectly ordinary. She'd seen the crescent-shaped cuts in the palms of his hands after one of Kaura's more uncomfortable tests—no one else had, she suspected, because they healed so quickly—and she highly doubted regular fingernails could slice skin so easily. She'd made a note to mention it to Kaura when she returned to the infirmary, after eating her...breakfast...

She glared down at her bowl, realising the porridge had gone cold. A chuckle directly in front of her made her look up, the smiling face of Tira greeting her.

"I've been sitting here for ten minutes," the hunter said, tilting her head slightly. "I was wondering when you'd notice me."

Zelda blushed, cursing her lack of awareness, looking anywhere but directly at the tall hunter. "My apologies," she said. "I did not mean to ignore you; I was merely lost in thought."

Tira nodded. "I can imagine. Link's on a lot of people's minds these days. How is he?"

Zelda hesitated, unsure of how much information she was allowed to share with the others. She knew how everyone would react if Link's possible transformation into a beast became public knowledge—he'd be killed immediately. Impa was holding off on it for now, but she wouldn't be able to say no if the entire Studio demanded his execution. For the greater good, would be their reasoning. In Zelda's opinion, the greater good never required someone to die.

"If you're worried I'll blab, I can assure you I won't," Tira said, reaching up and scratching her temple. A golden earring dangled from her pointed ear, Zelda noticed. "Link saved Kafei and Mana's lives—that alone makes him a friend to me. I'll do whatever I can to help protect him."

Zelda glanced around them, making sure no one was listening. She wasn't sure about this—she didn't know Tira very well apart from a few very brief conversations on her way in and out of the infirmary. All she knew for certain was that she was Hylian (albeit slightly darker-skinned than usual, hinting at southern blood in her line), had been a hunter for at least ten years, and had formed an informal party with Kafei and his wife, Elenwe.

"My father was from the southern isles," Tira offered suddenly, chuckling again when Zelda could only offer a blank look in return. "I could see you debating yourself in your head. You don't know me very well, so I thought I'd offer you a fact about me. My father is from the south, hence my darker skin."

As if to illustrate her point, she laid her hand on top of Zelda's. It was larger than the princess', and covered in scars and callouses...but it was warm. Very warm...

"He came to Hyrule about thirty years ago with a trade caravan, met my mother in a small village called Blackbrook, and...well, I was the result." Tira grinned. "People say I inherited my mother's looks, but my father's temperament."

Zelda had no idea what that meant, but her attention was still on Tira's hand on hers, so half the words had been lost in the aether anyway. The other Hylian seemed to notice, and withdrew it, the tips of her fingers brushing against Zelda's knuckles. That set the princess' blush off once again.

"So...how is Link?" Tira asked again with an innocent smile, as if she hadn't just...well...what _had_ she done?

"Oh, er...um...he is...fine, for now," Zelda mumbled, trying to kick-start her brain. "We're still running tests, making sure he hasn't contracted anything nasty..."

"Apart from an impressively accelerated rate of healing," Tira said drily, grinning. "Kafei tells me whatever he learns, too," she explained. "From what I understand, he practically regrew his neck?"

"Almost," Zelda said. "His vocal chords are still ruined, so he probably won't be able to speak...but we're working on that."

"With the doctor's assistant, yes?" Tira asked. "The...sign language?"

"Correct."

"That's good—I cannot imagine being unable to communicate with anyone apart from writing notes. It's just not a good way to convey _feelings_ , you know?" She caught Zelda's eyes with her own, giving her a smile that seemed...almost sultry. Zelda was certain her face could be mistaken for a tomato by now.

The morning bell was rung, signalling it was time to get on with the chores for the day. Zelda groaned and quickly hurled the rest of the porridge into her mouth, realising she was going to be late for the meeting with Kaura and Impa. Around them, the hunters were rising noisily to their feet, discussing their plans loudly.

"Princess."

Tira's voice made her stop, and she practically froze when the older woman reached over the table and wiped gently at the corner of her mouth.

"Porridge," she explained. "Not very dignified when meeting with the good doctor and the master, eh?"

"T-Thank you," Zelda stuttered, wishing her face would just catch fire and be done with it. No one had touched her so casually before...or, well, maybe Sheik, but that was different. He usually did it to annoy her, or play a prank...but Tira...Tira seemed to do it just because she could...or wanted to.

"My pleasure," Tira said with a nod. "Oh, and please...do not hesitate to call on me should you require help with our friend," she added. "Though, actually...you can feel free to call on me _anytime_." She winked. "Have a good day, Your Grace," she said, quickly disappearing among the throngs of hunters leaving the hall, leaving one very confused, blushing, and, to her surprise, _intrigued_ princess of Hyrule in her wake.

* * *

"Rane, right?"

The young man turned around, scowling when he found Ascal smiling widely at him. So predictable, Ascal thought.

"What do you want, _hunter_?" he spat, adding as much venom as possible to the word, like it was a curse.

"Just a word, if I may?" Ascal asked, maintaining an air of perfect and infuriating politeness, the kind that set off young men like nothing else. "In private?"

They were in the training field in front of the mayor's home. The drills were over for the day, and the guardsmen were slowly leaving for their homes in the town. Rane was surrounded by a group that seemed to be composed of his friends and future lackeys, if their tense stances around Ascal, a man Rane had made clear was an enemy, were anything to go by. Ascal gave them a brilliant smile as well.

"Anything you have to say, you can say in front of my men," Rane said, crossing his arms and giving Ascal a defiant look.

"Perhaps," Ascal said, nodding. "Though what I was hoping to discuss is rather sensitive information, and not something I can in good conscience share with a group of strangers—no offence to your fine friends, of course."

"No dice, Mister _Gold_ ," Rane said. "Not interested. Unless there's something else...?" He made to turn his back on Ascal, which in many cases would have been the young man's last act on this mortal plane. Ascal reined in the sudden urge to twist Rane's neck until it snapped, and pulled out his trump card.

"Not even if it what I have to say includes justice for your mother?"

Rane froze, his expression unreadable. A few of his men took a threatening step forward, glaring at Ascal, but he simply stared mildly back, waiting for the mayor's son to come back to reality, undoubtedly reliving whatever tragedy had befallen the woman who'd given him life.

"Where?" Rane asked.

"My room, after supper," Ascal supplied. "Your father does not need to know."

Rane slowly nodded. "All right."

Ascal nodded back, and turned on his heels, marching back to the manor, whistling to himself. Whoever said humans were difficult to read and manipulate clearly hadn't tried hard enough.

* * *

True to his word, Rane showed up at Ascal's door later that night, after Dane had gone on his evening patrol. He insisted on it, he'd said. Claimed it kept him sharp to be out and about in the cold, rather than inside his comfortable office all day. Admirable, and perfect for Ascal's plan.

"Rane, come in," Ascal said, showing the young man inside. "Please, have a seat. Would you like a drink?"

Rane seated himself in an armchair by the fireplace, shaking his head no. "No, I don't drink," he said, glaring at Ascal and Art, who was standing by the window. To a casual onlooker, he appeared to simply be enjoying the view of the darkened hillside, but he was actually looking out for Dane's patrol returning.

"What do you want, hunter?" Rane asked venomously. "You mentioned my mother, but that doesn't mean—"

"...you trust me," Ascal finished. "Of course, and I understand that. What I want is...for you and I to get along. To actually reach some sort of...well, not trust, but at least an...agreement."

"What sort of agreement?"

"About the Studio," Ascal said, lowering himself into the armchair opposite Rane's. "You and I both know that the chances of this situation with the hunters reaching a peaceful conclusion is less than zero. The hunters will be too proud to give up their own, and your father knows that too much is at stake to risk an entire fortress full of lycanthropes running amok come spring. At least on that, we can agree, yes?"

Rane nodded slowly, lips curling slightly at the mention of lycanthropes. So easy, Ascal thought. "That is true," Rane said. "Father won't let anything risk the town. Not anymore, at least." There was a tone of resentment in that sentence, and Ascal wanted to thank his lucky stars for that.

"Then you also know that if your father decides to act, then bloodshed is very likely to occur?"

"It will."

Ascal leaned forward, tapping his index fingers together in a nervous gesture. "I don't much like the idea, but this wouldn't be the first time we've been forced to purge an entire branch of our organisation. Hunters live to protect the world from monsters, and will do anything to achieve that goal...even when said monsters are their own. The last time it happened was about sixty years ago, far to the north, where monsters known as yetis carried a strange form of rabies that quickly spread through the entire garrison. They all had to be put down, for the safety of everyone in that valley they occupied—"

"I don't _care_ about your sob stories, hunter," Rane said, glaring at him. "The only reason I'm here is because you mentioned my mother. What do you know of her?"

"Not much, only that she died far too early...and, if I am not mistaken, due to the inaction of the Studio?" Ascal watched him carefully. Every little muscle twitch, every hitched breath...the barely audible sound of the young man's heart suddenly skipping a beat. The slight narrowing of his irises... "It is a story I see far too often," he continued. "It is...an unfortunate consequence of our lifestyle and business model. We do not offer our services for free, and that, unfortunately, sometimes leads to people dying. People who either could not afford us, or did not know about us, or did not trust us...these are but a few of the reasons people are hesitant to approach us, especially the Sheikah hunters."

Rane tried to keep his face neutral, but Ascal could read him like an open book. Much easier than his father, which was only to be expected.

"There were lycanthropes up here, a decade or so ago. I've seen the reports."

There were no reports. All he needed as confirmation was Rane's face, which twisted at the word.

"A lean year for everyone...even the monsters."

A light sheen of sweat covered Rane's brow.

"Far too easy to be overwhelmed when desperate, hungry beasts come along...and the hunters are content to hole up in their fortress, unwilling to engage in hunts unless there's money to be had."

Rane trembled slightly, his hand fisting in the fabric of his trousers.

"A woman...isolated...hunted and torn apart—"

"Enough!" Rane roared, standing up and reaching for the dagger in his belt. Ascal did not react, only gazing at the younger man with sad eyes. "You...you do not get to speak about her!"

"You are right—"Ascal began.

"You could have saved her! But you wouldn't! Said there weren't werewolves in the valley, that it was preposterous!" Rane did not draw a weapon, but he hurled the expensive bottle of wine on the small table into the fireplace, which flared to life for a moment. "Because you wouldn't fucking admit you'd made a _mistake_!" he hissed, eyes wide and staring directly at Ascal, who slowly raised his hands in submission.

"You are right, of course," he said calmly. Behind him, he heard Art shift slightly, relaxing from his combat stance undoubtedly. Rane was likely a formidable fighter...but he hadn't nearly as much experience as the other two men in the room. He'd be dead in seconds, if they so decided. "The hunters failed, back then. They should have done their jobs...but they didn't, and you lost..." he trailed off, hanging his head. "And for that, I can only apologise."

"I don't want apologies," Rane spat. "I want justice! Like you said—"

"Which you shall have, should my worst fears come true," Ascal said, standing up as well. He paced around the room, affecting a worried expression. "The hunters won't give up their own, your father will not budge...but I worry that that will only result in a stalemate, a protracted siege that will never end. That cannot be allowed to happen." He looked directly at Rane. "I need to know that you, and your men, are willing to do what is necessary, should the hunters refuse."

"We're ready—"Rane began.

"That you're ready to kill!"

"We are!"

Ascal slowly approached Rane, whose eyes, wide and filled with zeal, were locked to his. Rane stepped backwards until his back hit the mantelpiece.

"Not a single soul can be left alive in that castle, should hostilities begin. Do you understand? I can explain to the other hunters that a purge was necessary, but only if none of those in the Studio is alive to dispute my reasons. I doubt your father will be willing to go that extra distance, which is why I need you and your men to be."

He held out a hand to Rane, still staring him directly in the eyes, letting just a little bit of his mind to reach out to touch the young man's. Hardly necessary, Rane was practically eating out of his hand already, but it never hurt to be sure.

So much fear, so much anger, so much sorrow...

It was a wonder the young man hadn't tried something like it before.

"Can I trust you to do what is necessary, Rane?" he asked, smiling when the young man did not hesitate to take his hand.

"You can, Mister Gold," Rane said, his tone anything but hostile for once. "But...how will we do it? The place is still a fortress..."

Ascal grinned, almost letting his fangs come into view. So tempting to show them, sometimes... "I will handle that—you just make sure you and your men are combat-ready."

"Hmph, we will be," Rane grunted and made to leave.

"Oh, and no word of this to your father, yes? He will not understand, nor will he agree that a purge is necessary."

"He won't hear of it from me."

"Excellent. Have a good night, Rane."

When they were alone once more, Ascal waited until Rane's footsteps had faded away before chuckling and sinking back into his armchair. "That was easier than I expected," he told Art as his accomplice moved away from the window, retrieving a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet.

"You did something," Art observed as he poured them both a drink. "Another vamp thing?"

Ascal took a sip, still not sure why so many seemed to enjoy the bitter liquid. It burned on the way down his gullet, but not in the good way that the red stuff did. "Just a little...trick," he said. "Helps convince someone that a suggestion is in their best interest. Hardly had to do it on young Rane, though. Already so full of self-righteous anger...and a desire to kill so strong it's a wonder he hasn't already begun murdering the neighbourhood pets."

Art grunted. "Creeps me out."

"Grief can do so much damage to a young, fragile mind," Ascal lamented.

"That the only thing you can do?"

"Depends on what you define as a _things_ , doesn't it? I have a few more tricks up my sleeves...but where would the fun be in telling you about them, when I can show you instead when the time comes?" He sniffed and finished his drink, grimacing. His nose picked up on a far more delectable scent in the air. "You wouldn't happen to have been baking today?" he asked.

Art gave a small grin and nodded. "Marble cake."

Ascal mentally took back the bad things he'd ever thought about Art's hobbies.

"You spoil me, Art."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff and Ascal being an ass - what more could you need?


	48. The Little Spies

The relative peace and quiet of his study was interrupted by the door slamming open, and the horrible woman marching inside like she owned the place...which, the young lord supposed, she did...although only temporary, if any of his plans came to fruition. They weren't good, he knew his strategic abilities well enough to be able to admit that. He did far better in the realm of politics. Still, even if his plans weren't necessarily successful, all he needed was for them to distract Dehl long enough for Ascal to make it back after his business with the hunters.

It was all but a given that he'd gotten stuck in the mountains due to the winter, and that the snow would have to melt before he could come back to Hyrule and deal with his rogue protégé and her band of murderous bastards...and it was up to the scion of House Camdessus to hold the fort till then.

Still, on nights like this, when she came to gloat, it was difficult to remain steadfast in belief in Ascal...

She spotted him behind his desk, and smirked. She was carrying a straw bag over her shoulder, the bottom of which was soaked in red. He could only guess as to the contents. "My lord," she said in greeting, doing an unconvincing curtsy and inserting nothing but contempt in his title. "You will be happy to know I have uncovered a conspiracy in your very house!"

He leaned back in his seat, eyeing the bag warily. "Is...is that so?" he asked, glancing down at the letter he had been writing. Nothing incriminating in it so far, luckily, so no harm done even if she spotted it. "Dear me, that sounds troubling."

"Indeed," she said in agreement, doing a little flourish as she sat the sack down on the desk with a wet splat. A small pool quickly began to spread from underneath it. "However, you will be happy to know that the conspirators and their nefarious plans have been dealt with, so there is no need to concern yourself with it further. _"_ She motioned to the bag, expecting him to open it. "Have a look at your enemies, my lord."

Jerewin Camdessus had spent most of his life in classrooms, studies, manors, and social gatherings. He had seen the occasional body or two, when he'd been forced to employ Ascal's unique talents to get rid of troublesome elements...but none of that had prepared him for the bag of heads Dehl had presented him with. It was bad enough they'd all been severed, but she hadn't been satisfied with that, evidently. Their eyes had been gouged out, their teeth broken and maimed, ears sliced off...mutilated almost beyond recognition...save for a very distinct facial tattoo on one of them.

"You recognise that one, eh?" Dehl asked, having studied his face. "Maric...one of my best. To think he would betray you like this...I cannot for the life of me imagine why."

A huge bag of rupees and a promise of political asylum, Jer thought bitterly, disappointed that the vampire's right hand man had gone down so easily...and without even performing the job he'd been hired to do.

"Not that it matters," Dehl continued, picking up the bag and slinging it back over her shoulder. "The business has been taken care of, and I can assure you that I will only hire absolutely incorruptible assistants from now on. _Nothing_ will be able to threaten you again, my lord, I swear it." She paused on her way back to the door, giving him an intense look. "Nothing happens in this house without me knowing, my dear Jerewin."

It took him a moment to work up the courage to speak again after such a thinly veiled threat. "I...that is good to hear."

"Oh, and before I forget," the vampire said, grinning sadistically. "We just received word from the Southern Belt Union. They say they will be more than happy to transport our cargo once the railroad has been built. So, you know what to discuss during the next council meeting. We need those permits, after all. Have a good day, _my lord_."

She slammed the door behind her, leaving only the sound of the clock above the fireplace, ticking away like its occupant hadn't just witnessed an atrocity. Jer stared at the blood on his desk, already congealing. A few months ago, he'd be a shaking mess, terrified of the lengths to which his captor would go to ensure his cooperation. Now he was only filled with a cold sense of dread...and anger.

His plan for Hyrule...it had not been the best. In truth, he suspected it had been a knee-jerk reaction to the princess' outright dismissal of his ideas...he'd realised that quite a while ago, but Dehl had been all-too-happy to jump on it, not only ensuring that it would continue, but expanding it to dimensions Jer could only have imagined in his wildest dreams. The southern slave markets were a gateway to great wealth...but at the volume she intended to pursue it, there wouldn't be a single person left in Hyrule once the great railroad project was finished...which was why Jer was actively delaying it in every way he could.

Had Ascal felt the same about Jer's own small-scale plans? Indentured servitude was different to normal slavery (no brands, for one), but...perhaps only to the ones who were actually making money off of it. Ascal had gone along with it like nothing was wrong, but...had he been judging, silently, as he listened to his lord?

He shook his head, tore his gaze away from the bloody spot on his desk and refocused on his letter. It had been a bad start anyway. He tore it apart and began a new one. The commander of Castle Town's constabulary had been dismissed from the council after Dehl had begun pulling at Jer's strings, but the man was anything but powerless. If he could get a message to him... Now that Maric was dead, his plan for that had gone down the drain, but surely there had to be some other way...

* * *

Impa glared down at the blank, unseeing eyes of the dead beast. The body had begun to rot, and a most unpleasant smell was filling the dungeon she'd had turned into a secondary laboratory. The dungeon's whole purpose was to serve as a place to analyse and identify exactly what kind of creature Mana and the others had encountered...and so far, they'd failed, much to Impa's annoyance...and now the damn thing was starting to break down, before they'd even given it a name!

"It's a right ugly bastard," Hafthor said, his arms crossed as he mirrored Impa's gaze down at the thing's face. "Wolf head and a developed, bipedal body...not two things meant to be mixed."

"And yet, here it is," Impa said. She glanced at Erd, who was running more tests on its various fluids with Kaura. "We're running out of time—Doctor, Erd, have you learned anything new?"

"Nothing useful so far," Erd admitted, shoulders slumped as he replaced one sample with another under his microscope. "Apart from what we learned when Link was first injured, that is. This thing's cells...their behaviour is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's one thing to have them enter another living being's bloodstream and cause a little havoc...the increased healing, though, is new..."

Kaura made a humming sound at her own microscope. "I think we've reached the end of what information we can glean from simply examining the brat's blood samples and that of the beast." Casually, she retrieved an empty sample cup and an empty syringe. "Here, genius," she said to Erd. "Take a sample from me."

"Doctor?" Erd raised an eyebrow.

"Look, so far we've only tried with samples we already know to be contaminated, either by the monster or by the brat. Let's see what the thing does to _my_ blood."

"This goes against scientific principles and experimental methodology—"

"Fine, I'll take it myself."

Impa, a veteran hunter who was well into her fifties by now, who'd seen more death and violence than she honestly cared for, winced as the physician jabbed the needle into her own arm, drawing a full vial of her blood. Impa wasn't sure if it was her own dislike of needles or the sheer nonchalance with which that Kaura did it, but that sight would stay with her for quite a while.

Quickly tying a bandage around the needle wound with one hand (also an impressive sight), Kaura prepared a glass slide with a drop of her blood as well as that of the beast, and went back to her microscope, hems and haws soon coming from her. Impa turned away, knowing when to leave the doctor alone.

"Leaving aside the properties of its blood for a moment," Mana said, leaving her instruments on the table, evidently done digging around in its insides for now. "Where did it come from?"

"Not a native, obviously," Impa said immediately. "If your examinations are correct, this thing has been alive for fifty years, possibly even more."

"The amount of wear and tear on its teeth seem to suggest that, yes," Mana agreed.

"Which means it can't possibly have come from this area—we'd have encountered it long ago."

"We do sweeps every year," Hafthor said with an agreeing grunt. "We can't do much about the quickly spawning beasts, and the wolf packs are culled...but this thing definitely wouldn't have escaped our notice, especially not if it were mingling with the normal wolves." He leaned down and flicked its snout. "Must have come here before the snows. But why?"

"Bad luck?" Mana suggested. "Wolf territories stretch on for miles. Could have accidentally wandered up here and gotten stuck after the storm."

"Whatever this thing did, it was not by accident," Impa said firmly, an idea occurring to her. "It was far too intelligent for that. No, it did not come up here accidentally. It either came to hunt...or explore."

"Bad time and place for exploring," Hafthor said. "Stuck up here, with a fortress full of people dedicated to killing creatures like it."

"Unless it had a way out and in," Impa said, drawing the surprised looks of Mana and Hafthor.

"You don't think...?" Mana asked.

"Hard to say—I've ceased work on the project for now, in the wake of it all. But from what the engineers tell me...the entire mountain's a giant network of old mining tunnels. It's not unimaginable that this thing set up a lair down there..."

"But those mines were closed centuries ago," Hafthor said. "Surely they would have collapsed by now?"

"So I assumed, but after what the digging crews found...I am suddenly not so sure. Either way, like I said, I have paused the project for now, and closed the entrances we know of. Mostly because of the storm, but now for an even better reason. I'm not willing to risk more of these things suddenly popping out of the ground, if that is indeed where they come from." She shook her head, stepping away from the body and towards a desk on which a towering pile of books were balanced precariously. She leaned her cane against the desk and picked up a specific book in which she'd found something intriguing. "As for its classification...I found something in Ivan's old notes."

"That his diary?" Hafthor asked.

"Correct," Impa said, carefully handling the aged pages. She'd have to ask Lorasi to transcribe this for her soon, if she found a way to separate him from the twin he'd managed to latch himself onto at some point. Like barnacles, they were. "I couldn't sleep the other night, and decided to see if old Scarface had mentioned something. He killed more lycanthropes in a single year than most hunters do their entire lives. If any of the old hunters would know something about these things, it'd be him."

"And?" Mana asked. "Did he?"

"No," Impa said. "At least, nothing he ever named." She turned to a specifically marked page, on which Ivan had written of a particularly harrowing hunt, during which sixteen of his fellow hunters had lost their lives—of a party of twenty. Granted, back then the hunting of beasts was such a new concept that it consisted of little more than arming as many men as possible to the teeth and sending them into the monsters' lairs, hoping that the sheer numbers would be enough, but Ivan had chosen a more thorough approach to his hunts...which was probably why the theories and techniques he'd developed back then were still being used today. She began reading aloud.

_"...a routine we had practiced more times than we could count. The Baron was adamant we handle it as soon as possible, as the beast had already murdered several of his guardsmen, along with his townspeople and livestock. We had seen what it left behind; we knew it was a fearsome creature, but we were confident in our own abilities and equipment, and our own estimation of the beast itself. The teeth and claw marks were consistent with that of the wolf-men, and we saw no reason to deviate from our usual strategy...though even I had to admit that the ferocity and sheer carnage it had caused was beyond anything I had ever seen before._

_At first I suspected an entire pack, but the Baron insisted it was the work of one creature. So we saddled our mounts and began the hunt._

_We quickly picked up its trail, following it to a grove a few miles outside the town. What we first believed to be a normal burrow turned out to be an extensive system of tunnels and exits, with enough room for, as we had suspected, an entire pack of wolf-men...and that was exactly what we found._

_It was a trap._

_They waited until we were spread out, too divided to form an effective shield-wall or firing line...and attacked! Six wolf-men emerged from their dens, immediately tearing the closest brother to pieces. We did not even realise what had happened until we heard the screams, at which point it all descended into chaos. Forget crossbows and missile weapons—it was a bloody melee, where the only thing that kept you alive were your wits, your reflexes, and your armour._

_I had just cut down one of the beasts, severing its head with my silver blade according to our routine. Only two of the six monsters were still alive, but fighting ferociously. I was confident that victory would soon be had._

_Then_ it _emerged from its lair. It sprang up from beneath a mighty oak tree, howling with rage. It was large, much larger than its brethren, and less malformed. Had I not seen walk on its hind legs and brandishing clawed fingers, I would have thought it nothing but an enormous wolf—a direwolf, like the legends of old._

_I was once told to not attribute malice to the actions of animals or beasts—they are merely following instincts, despite how thought out and seemingly planned those actions are. However, in this case, there is no other word with which to describe its actions_ than _malice. Faster and stronger than its fellow wolf-men, it rushed forward and seized Falon by the neck. He barely had time to realise what was happening before the beast began to pull. His screams as his head was slowly torn from his shoulders...I will never be able to forget them."_

Impa paused. "It goes on for several paragraphs afterwards. The beast managed to take down another nine hunters before Ivan himself drove his sword through the back of its head. He does not describe it much afterwards, only that they burned it as soon as possible. The thing murdered three of his best friends...and describes it like that. _Murder_. The other lycans are described normally, but not this one."

"And you...believe the large wolf-man he describes to be like this one?" Hafthor asked, gesturing to the rotting carcass.

"He includes a sketch," Impa said, flipping the book and showing them the rough drawing of the beast Ivan had made...and even she had to admit it was an eerie resemblance.

"Gets us no closer to knowing _what_ it is, though," Mana muttered.

"Ivan never mentioned this particular beast again in his notes," Impa said, closing the book reverently and putting it back on the table. "But his successor, Mera One-Eye, had an interesting theory; one I and most of the other masters have dismissed before, but I now believe should be reconsidered."

"And that is?" Kaura asked, having looked up from her work.

Impa retrieved her cane and began to pace around the dungeon, trying to gather her thoughts. "It has been a while since I read her journal, and I could not find it in the archive yesterday, but as I recall it concerned whether or not lycanthropes were created through bites, and not environmental infection. She theorised that there could be some sort of creature we had yet to encounter and classify, one that carried the infection and delivered it through physical means. I am inclined to agree with this now, almost three centuries later, and we have yet to find the vector for the infection."

She paused, glancing at the monster.

"If her theory is correct, then I believe Link found one of the sources of the lycanthropic disease...and blew its brains out. I believe Ivan and his party encountered one as well, and that _these_ are the things we should be trying to find in order to eliminate lycanthropes _permanently_."

The room fell silent as the occupants let that idea settle in their heads. If this were true...then they had taken a major step forward in understanding and, above all, remove one of the most dangerous threats to people all over the world.

"I plan on sending ravens to the other clans with this information," Impa said. "Even if I am wrong, this information could still lead to breakthroughs...though given what is happening to our Hylian friend in the infirmary, I am ninety-nine percent certain that it is true."

"Then...the boy will turn soon," Hafthor said, shaking his head sadly. "We'll have to put him down—"

"Not so fast, big man," Kaura said, glaring at him. "Any of you try to put down _my_ patient, I swear you will regret it."

"Doctor, surely you realise the danger—"

"The boy is still weak from his injuries," Kaura continued, paying him no heed. "He is afraid, terrified of what is happening to him. So far, the only unusual thing he's done is smell whoever comes inside the room, like a dog—"

"Or wolf!"

"But even then he acts normally," Kaura's glare intensified, warning him that no further interruptions would be accepted. "He is recovering...and he is still secured. He will not be escaping that room anytime soon. The...infection...is clearly changing him, but until I am certain there is no way to save him, that it is turning him into a monster...then euthanizing him is completely off the table. And if I hear more talk of it here, I will show you why not a single thief or bandit in Clock Town dares to trifle with me."

The threat was delivered with a normal tone, but the grin she slowly let grace her face as she spoke was utterly terrifying.

"Besides," she said, "I believe whatever is happening to him is different than what is normal for your lycanthropes. For one thing, his proportions remain normal, even though every journal and book I have consulted in your library on this subject describes victims beginning to twist and grow mere days after the infection takes hold." She shrugged. "From what I can see, his body remains that of a normal, eighteen-year-old Hylian."

Her eyes met Impa's for a minute, and the master hunter could see no hint of backing down in the doctor's eyes. She dared not take up that battle. "Very well, doctor," she said. "I will...allow you to keep him under observation for a time, on the condition that you keep me updated on every minute change that may occur...and that you ensure the safety of my nephew and the princess. I can't do much to keep them away, but you had damn well make sure to keep them out of harm's way if you see something you don't like happening to the recruit."

"I'm stubborn, master Impa, not stupid," Kaura said, nodding. "Of course I will keep the little idiots away from him if something happens."

"Hunter," Mana said suddenly, looking at Impa.

"Pardon?" Impa said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You called him a recruit—you avoid using his name because you're so utterly afraid of actually acknowledging him as a person, but you can at least do him the courtesy of calling him what he is: a hunter."

"I haven't given—"

"That's three Sheikah whose lives he has saved, as well as taken down a formidable beast that could possibly be a major source of _other_ beasts...not to mention the two hunts he took part in with Sheik in Hyrule. As far as I'm concerned, he is one of us—and I'm sure Kafei and Sheik will agree. Hell, even Kiro may throw his hat in...even though I wish he'd throw the damn thing _out_."

Impa blinked. Of course, it hadn't happened for so long, but if three Sheikah, one of whom is an elder, is in agreement, then the master hunter's approval is not necessary. Link was a hunter, whether or not Impa wanted him to be. Not that she'd deny him that—even if he turned into a monster at the end of it all, Impa had no problem acknowledging his worth as a hunter of the Studio. She'd only hoped to be able to have the ceremony...

"I agree," Hafthor said, his voice rumbling with sadness. "The boy's a hunter—a damn good one, too. I hope you're right, doctor...but until we know for sure, I will keep Katja close." He patted the giant war hammer on his back.

"Just don't bring it inside my infirmary, and we won't have a problem, big man," Kaura said firmly.

* * *

"I wonder what it is about you that has my dear sire so...enraptured."

Jer looked up from his book, staring back at the vampire. He'd hoped to enjoy a moment of silence alone, escaping into a fantasy world for just a little while, but she deemed even that too good for him, waltzing inside his office once more and planting herself on his sofa, simply staring at him reading until he could stand it no more.

"What?" he asked, uncertain of what she meant.

She chuckled. "How long has Ascal been in your...service?" she asked. "Twenty, thirty years?"

Jer swallowed. "My father employed him before I was born—why?"

"Just curious," she lied. Everything she did was for a reason, never mere curiosity...or so Jer suspected. She seemed the type who got bored easily and always needed to be up to something. Her bloodlust certainly never seemed to end, at least. "It's not like him, you know, to be tied down for so long. He was always a wanderer...and yet, here I find him, having served a _mortal_ family for several decades! I couldn't believe what I was hearing!"

Jer rolled his eyes. She was terrifying when she was angry or wanted to kill something, but at the moment she seemed content to be annoying, and he found himself just a mite braver when she was. "Is there a point to this?" he asked, blinking when she was suddenly standing in front of him, leaning down and staring directly into his eyes. Her eyes were amber, just like Ascal's, though a shade darker.

"My point," she said slowly, the last word emphasised by her fangs flicking into place, "is that my sire always has a reason for doing the things he does. Granted, those reasons don't always make perfect sense, but according to his own logic, they do...and I cannot for the life of me understand why he'd serve _you_ for so long...unless..." she trailed off, leaning closer and taking a long sniff of his neck.

"What are you doing?!" Jer yelped, trying to push her away, but he might as well have been attempting to move a mountain for all the good it did.

Dehl sniffed again. "Hmmm...definitely noble blood," she muttered, lips brushing against his skin. Deftly, she undid his cravat, revealing the two tiny scars he always covered up. "Ah, so he's not only partaken...he's _marked_ you as well. Interesting..."

Before Jer could ask what that meant, he felt her fangs bite into his neck, at the exact spot Ascal usually did...and it felt so _wrong_. It hurt, badly, unlike when Ascal did it. The wounds tingled as she sucked the blood out of his veins, taking little more than a mouthful before pulling away, licking a stray drop from her chin.

"I can see why he would stick around for you," she said, winking. "Absolutely delicious. You may have another use after all, my dear Jerewin. Tell me, when did he first draw from you?"

"N-None of your business!" he scowled, glaring at her and pressing his hand against the bleeding punctures. Not that she needed an answer in order to know.

"Already as a child?" Dehl asked, laughing. "He always did like them young. I bet your father was just _thrilled_ when he found out."

"He...he never did," Jer said, looking away.

"Pity, I'm sure his expression would have been unforgettable," she sang. Then her expression changed, as if someone hit a switch in her head. "Either way, I'm sure Ascal won't mind if you take over as my donor. It'd be a shame for it go to waste, and I'm sure he'd like to keep it in the family. Not that he'll know—he won't make it back here alive." She tossed Jer his cravat. "Cover yourself up, my lord—you look like a harlot."

After she'd left, he redid his cravat. The wounds had already stopped bleeding, which seemed to be common with vampire bites. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes—only Ascal was allowed to do that...no one else...and this bitch had...had... He shook his head. "Ascal will tear you apart when he comes home," he muttered to himself.

It was well after midnight when he withdrew to his old, childhood chambers and tried to sleep, but it did not come easily. He lay there, staring up at the darkened carvings in the wooden ceiling. As a child, he'd loved those...but here, in the dark, the snarling bears and wolves were as menacing as the monster that roamed the halls of his home. Even now he could hear the footsteps of her men outside as they patrolled the manor, ensuring that no one could come or go. A prisoner in his own home...he could only imagine how his father would react. Not well...but then, old Lord Camdessus had never reacted well to anything his son did, considering him weak and unfit for the role...

...how right you were, father, he thought.

He blinked. He could have sworn he heard something...like voices? But muffled, and...close to the windows...?

There was a slight crack, and one of his windows suddenly slid open, two dark shapes slipping inside quickly. Panicking, Jer reached under his pillow and drew the loaded pistol he kept there (it would be of little help against Dehl, but he felt safer with it there), aiming it towards the shapes.

"Who's there?" he demanded, voice choking slightly.

The shapes froze, having been in the process of moving towards the door.

"Shit," one muttered.

"I _told_ you this was a bedroom, you bellend," the other hissed.

Hand shaking, Jer fumbled with the knob for the gaslight, which quickly spluttered into life and illuminated his chambers and revealing the intruders to be...children? Street children, at that, dressed in filthy rags and with dirty faces, no more than twelve years each at most. One was a girl, her long hair kept back with a tie, while the boy had his closely shorn. It was unusual to see individuals of their...status...in this part of the city, but what surprised him more were the weapons in their hands. The boy had a wicked-looking stiletto, while the girl held a knife in a reverse grip, ready to lash out. They were both staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure of how to proceed...as was Jer.

"I don't suppose we could convince you to turn off the lights, lie back down, and pretend this was all a dream?" the boy asked quietly, a hopeful grin stretching his face. The girl simply glared, looking ready to pounce at Jer, despite the pistol aimed at her.

"Who are you?" Jer asked, keeping his voice down. He didn't want to alert Dehl or her guards just yet. "What are you doing here?"

"Stealing your shit," the girl replied nastily. "And maybe killing you, if you don't stay quiet."

"No beggar is stupid enough to break into houses here—"Jer began, but the girl hissed.

"Er."

The boy's wrist moved impossibly fast, flicking the stiletto directly at him. It grazed the knuckles of his right hand, causing him to drop his pistol. By the time he realised and was reaching for it, the girl was on him, using her whole body weight to force him back down onto the mattress, her knife at his throat. "Now, give me your name," she whispered harshly as her partner went to turn down the lights, after which he took up position by the door.

"J-Jerewin Camdessus," Jer replied, wincing when the tip of the dagger bit into his throat, drawing a little blood. Beaten by a little girl. His father would be hooting and crying about it for months, were he still alive. "Lord of this manor," he added.

Something flashed in the girl's eyes, and the dagger sliced a little more into his throat. "Then you're the man we're here to kill," she hissed. "You've hurt and murdered our friends, _my lord_."

Something clicked into place in Jer's head, and he gasped. "You're...you're part of the Sheikah's network," he said.

"That's right," she growled. "The last of it, actually. We've been looking for you, you know. Been hunting and torturing your men, trying to find out who paid 'em."

Jer stared at her, confused. His men? He hadn't had men in the city for months now...unless Dehl was having problems she didn't care to share with him? He tried to focus; that wasn't important. What was important was convincing the child sitting on his chest _not_ to slit his throat before it was too late.

"Kill me if you must," he said, "but please...listen to what I have to say first."

She snorted, which prompted her partner to shush at her, not liking the volume. "And why would I do that?"

"Because it could save your master's life."

That had the desired effect, and the pressure at his throat let up a little as she stared into his eyes, searching for lies. She may have looked like a child, but he could tell she was anything but. Was it the Sheikah's training that had done it to her, or something else?

"Speak," she said. "Quietly. One wrong move or sound, and you're dead."

He wasn't sure where to start, so he simply began with the moment Ascal had left to chase after the Sheikah and the princess. Dehl's arrival, and her hidden usurpation of the council. What she planned to do. The girl was horrified by it all, the hand with the dagger shaking slightly.

"And...this woman," Jer said, "she...she's not...normal."

"What do you mean, not normal?" the girl asked.

"She's...she's..."

"Say it."

Here it came, the moment of ridicule. Who could possibly take him seriously after this. "She's...a vampire."

He'd expected laughter. He'd expected the girl to snort and cut his throat for lying. What he _didn't_ expect was for the pair of intruders to exchange serious, wide-eyed looks.

"Those are rare," the boy whispered horrified, more to himself than anyone else.

"Evidently," the girl said. "Got any proof?" she asked.

"My neck...under the collar."

She undid the top shirt button and pulled it down, revealing the pair of healing bite marks. She narrowed her eyes, and then looked at him. "And this...friend of yours?"

"Also one," Jer admitted, wondering what on earth the Sheikah hunted on a daily basis if that _this_ was a normal reaction from their associates.

"Shit," she muttered and climbed off him, quickly joining her compatriot by the door, Jer's pistol in her hand and aimed straight at him, warning him to stay still and quiet. They had a quick, hushed conversation, clearly upset. Jer could swear he heard the word "contact" in there, and decided to take a chance.

"I can't leave this place—I'm a prisoner. But I have a letter for the Watch commander. If you can deliver it, we might be able to do something about it." He almost cowered under their glares.

"And how does that help the boss?" the boy asked.

"Because if you have an address, you can also send a message to _him_ ," Jer tried. "To warn him about...this."

"No way to get a message up there than by raven," the girl snorted.

"Nik," the boy hissed.

"What? He's dead anyway, doesn't hurt any."

"T-Then, a letter to other hunters, other Sheikah? Who can get a message to your boss?" Jer tried. "Surely there must be someone else who can reach him?" He didn't want to die here, like this. He didn't want to die at all, really...at least not without seeing Ascal at least once more...

The girl, Nik, made to snarl a response, but the boy, Er, poked her shoulder. "He's got a point," he said. "If we can get a message to another workshop...boss' got some addresses in his office, I think..."

Nik didn't look happy with her partner agreeing with the person she wanted to kill the most at the moment, but gave a reluctant nod. "Fine," she mumbled, approaching Jer again. "You will write a letter to a workshop, telling them to warn the boss at the Studio—got it?"

Jer could do little but nod enthusiastically. He saw no other option, really, and while he knew he was essentially stabbing Ascal in the back, he had a feeling the vampire would forgive him seeing as it also meant that Dehl would get her comeuppance...besides, Ascal would win against the hunters anyway, so what was the harm? He got out of bed and wrote the letter under the careful supervision of Nik, sealing it with wax.

"We'll handle the address," she said after he asked for it. He then handed her the letter he'd written to the Watch commander. "What's this?"

"Get it to the commander of the Watch," Jer simply said. "It informs him of a conspiracy, and how to identify Dehl's men. With any luck, he will take it seriously, and we can deal a serious blow to her."

"I think we can do that by killing you, too," Nik said, placing the pistol barrel against his chest.

"They'd hear you," Jer muttered, cold sweat running down his back.

"We'd be long gone by then."

"If you kill me, there's no telling what Dehl will do to the city." That made her pause. "She's a monster—she might burn it all to the ground if she can't control it."

There was a thump in the hall, and Er quickly headed for the window, which was still open. "Nik, someone's coming. We gotta go," he hissed, not even waiting before climbing out.

She looked torn between following her partner and simply pulling the trigger to decorate the wall behind Jer with his blood. "You screw us, there won't be anything left of you when I'm done," she promised with a fierce scowl, putting the pistol in her belt and climbing out after Er. Jer waited a moment before closing and locking the window behind them. There weren't any tracks in the snow outside—they'd either erased them on their way out, or snuck along the building's walls.

No sooner had he sat back down at his desk, hoping to process the event that had just occurred, did the door to his chambers open, and two of Dehl's men entered. Their weapons were drawn, but they hesitated upon spotting him.

"Spotted two intruders on the grounds, m'lord," one said.

"Seen anything suspicious?" asked the other.

Carefully adjusting his shirt's collar to hide the blood the girl had drawn, Jer shook his head. "Afraid not," he replied. "Though I did hear some commotion outside about fifteen minutes ago. Sounded like arguing."

"Let us know if you see or hear anything, m'lord," the first said, and then they were gone.

"Wouldn't let you know if Nik was about to shove a pole up your arse," Jer muttered to himself, hoping that the letters would reach their respective recipients...and that something would break the status quo.

* * *

It was Sheik's turn to leave the infirmary, meaning he'd been more or less kicked out by Kaura for being in her way. It was her way to ensure he had something to eat and some proper sleep...which he'd argued he could also get inside the infirmary, but she was not willing to accept that argument, and so had smacked him on the rump and told him to leave, or so help her...

And that was why he was currently sitting at a long table in the dining hall, eating dinner with Kafei and Elenwe. They kept him distracted with stories he'd missed while he was in Hyrule, keeping the topic from straying too close to Link.

_I should be with him,_ he thought. _He's still so weak..._

"...and then, I turned around, gave him a wink and grabbed his arse. The look on his face...I thought I'd die," Elenwe finished, nearly choking on her own laughter. Next to her, Kafei shook his head.

"I just wish you hadn't done it in front of the mayor," he said sadly. "It's hard enough to get that village to take me seriously in the first place—having you claiming me as your property in front of the whole assembly did _nothing_ to help my image."

"But you _are_ my property, K," she said, kissing his cheek. "I claimed you the moment we met."

Kafei sighed, giving Sheik a long-suffering look. "See what I have to deal with?"

"You made your bed, cousin," Sheik said, forcing himself to focus. "Now you can lay in it."

"That's not _all_ we do in it," Elenwe said, grinning.

"E!" Kafei almost screeched.

"What?" she asked, shrugging. "He's an adult. Mostly. Almost."

Sheik opened his mouth to protest his lack of adulthood, but the distant sound of a horn cut him off. The hunters gathered in the hall stilled for a moment, until the horn blew a second time, at which point they relaxed again.

Two horns. Returning hunters.

They came into the hall a few minutes—three of them. A pair of Gerudo...and a man Sheik had hoped he'd go the whole winter without seeing. Iteos had a wide, shit-eating grin on his face as he joined his exceedingly small group of friends at one of the end tables.

"Oh, why couldn't he have gotten eaten by a troll on the way back?" Kafei muttered as Elenwe got up to greet the two Gerudo who had come with Iteos, joining them at their table. "It'd save us all a lot of trouble."

"Good things don't happen to us, cousin," Sheik said with mock sadness. "We are Sheikah, after all. Cursed by all gods."

"I for one enjoy being everyone's bogeyman—makes them more likely to leave me alone." He paused, eyes narrowing. "He's coming, brace yourself."

"Kaffy!" Iteos greeted him, flinging himself into the seat next to Sheik. "How the hell are you? Finally got back with the missus, eh?"

"Hello, Iteos," Kafei greeted back coolly, eye twitching slightly at the horrid nickname. "I take it all went well at the watchtower?"

"Oh, yes, no trouble at all whatsoever," Iteos replied, taking no heed of Kafei's tone or his refusal to answer his question. "Listening to those two fuck all day gets a bit boring, though. After a while, the fantasy just loses its appeal, you know?" He craned his head until Sheik could practically _feel_ Iteos' eyes on him...and roaming his body. "And who's this? Why, if it isn't little Sheiky. Heard you were coming up to spend winter here with us. Good to see you again."

"Iteos," he said, nodding, not quite meeting Iteos' eyes. That gaze just made him uncomfortable...had done so for years. After their first meeting, when Sheik was twelve, Impa had forbidden him to be alone in the same room with Iteos. She didn't trust the human near her nephew at all.

"What happened to your face? Your beautiful, beautiful face..." Iteos reached out and pulled Sheik's cowl down, revealing his scarred cheek. "A northern lord take exception to you?"

"Mishap on a hunt," Sheik said, moving slightly away...and Iteos followed. Kafei's eyes met Sheik's, asking a silent question, but he shook his head. He could handle creeps like Iteos. "Controllers aren't quite as extinct as we thought. Might want to keep that in mind."

"Oh, I will," Iteos said sadly, frowning when Sheik twisted away so he couldn't touch the scar. "Such a pity...a waste..."

A bowl and wine cask slammed onto the table next to Kafei, and Tira was suddenly glaring at Iteos from across it. "Well, I see Reyla didn't do us the favour of throwing you off the tower," she told the human. "How disappointing."

Iteos glared back, Sheik momentarily forgotten. Sheik took advantage of it and shuffled further down the bench, out of Iteos' reach. "Tira," Iteos said. "Always a pleasure."

"Can't say the same about you." She sipped at her wine. "Only adults at this table, don't see why you're here. Why don't you go back to your...friends?"

"I'm fine right here," Iteos replied. "I was just having a conversation with my good friends—"

"Neither of them like you, so I suggest you bugger off."

There were few individuals at the Studio who would face down Tira Siress' death glare, but unfortunately Iteos was one of them. Exactly what had set off the intense hatred between them Sheik didn't know, but he also had a feeling he didn't _want_ to know. Mostly for fear of having that glare directed at _him_ for asking.

"Make me, Siress," Iteos said.

"I just might," she said, rising and clenching her fists.

"Go ahead," the human grinned. "Throw the first punch—would look _very_ good to the other hunters, wouldn't it?"

"They all hate your fucking guts anyway," she hissed.

"Tira," Kafei said warningly.

Sheik saw Iteos' hand slowly move in circles, preparing to flex. He'd seen that evil little wrist blade, knew what it could do to someone caught unawares. He tensed up, ready to strike if Iteos decided to pick a fight...

"Is there a problem here?"

Iteos seized up at the sound of the new voice, as well as the dagger blade that was suddenly brushing against his ear.

"I _said_ , is there a problem here?"

Iteos turned, glaring daggers at Reno. The senior hunter glared back through his spectacles, his dagger still pointed at the vulnerable junction where Iteos' neck and ear met. "No, Reno," Iteos replied. "Other than you pointing your weapon at me."

"I'd be careful accusing others of that, given the little toy you hide in your bracer," Reno replied, angling his blade so he was pushing Iteos away from their table. "Now, you were asked to leave—please do so. Or do I have to remind you of our last little spar? I'm a little tired from being holed up in a cave for the past few weeks, but I am still more than capable of beating you into the ground."

Iteos looked ready to take him up on the offer, but decided against it at the last moment, throwing a hateful look at Sheik, Kafei, and Tira. "This isn't over," he promised Reno, who simply nodded and waited until Iteos was gone before sheathing his blade and taking his place.

"What a joyful thing to come home to," the older hunter said, stealing a draught of Tira's wine. Looking at the three of them, he shrugged. "Hello, everyone?" he said.

"Reno," Kafei greeted shaking the older human's hand, as did Tira. Sheik was last, and Reno studied him close, though not in the lascivious manner Iteos had. He especially focused on the scar for a moment, before offering a soft smile and another handshake.

"You've grown a lot since I last saw you, Sheik," he noted. "I heard about the hunt in Termina. You're lucky that scar's all you were left with."

"So I've been told," Sheik replied, smiling back. He liked Reno. He was calm, collected, and an accomplished hunter. He'd been the one who taught Sheik how to use daggers effectively when he was training to become a hunter, and still had a lot to teach. "Hafthor was worried when you got stuck in the storm," he noted, grinning a little when Reno's face fell.

"Oh, gods," the human said, dragging his fingers through his short, blonde hair, grimacing. "Don't remind me. Haf will never let me outside the fortress again at this rate. One of the horses stepped into a hole in the road and panicked, threw poor Mikhal right off its back. Hit his head quite badly, and I didn't dare get him back on the road until I knew he was all right, and then the storm hit..."

A door at the end of the hall opened, and the senior hunters, led by Impa, walked inside. They'd been examining the monster all day, and were only now finished, it seemed. Impa and Mana seemed content to head for the food line immediately, but Hafthor's eyes were searching the room...and Sheik grinned at the way Reno seemed to curl up on himself, trying to avoid being spotted.

He had no such luck.

"Ren!"

"Bugger," Reno muttered to the others before he was bodily lifted out of his seat by the huge Sheikah. Admittedly, this was not a difficult feat for someone as strong as Hafthor...though the fact that Reno looked like a medium-sized wind could blow him over also helped. A huge grin erupted on Hafthor's face.

"You're back! I was so worried!"

Hafthor's voice boomed and echoed throughout the hall. Subtlety had never been one of the smith's virtues, and his reunion with Reno was definitely not something he could keep to himself. Reno bore it well, giving Hafthor a soft smile and giving him a soft peck on the lips.

"I'm fine, Haf—sorry I'm late. Could you please put me down? I'd quite like to get dinner—"

"Nope, got a lot of catching up to do," Haf said happily, slinging Reno over his shoulder and heading over to the food line. Reno could only give them a helpless look as Haf took two bowls of food with him, carrying them and Reno out of the hall.

"See you next week, Reno!" Elenwe shouted after them, which Reno answered with a very rude finger gesture.

This spectacle was received with laughter from the gathered hunters, and even a small smile from Impa. Sheik looked away when her eyes met his, scowling. He still wouldn't forgive her...not yet...

Instead, he threw himself into the conversation with Tira and Kafei. Despite the unpleasantness that sometimes occurred...he supposed there were worse places to be than the Studio. It was, after all, home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't for the life of me remember if I've given Lord Camdessus a first name earlier in the story, and I'm too lazy to check, so from now on his name is Jerewin!


	49. The Scent

The buzz wouldn't go away. It was ever-present, a low-key vibration in his head and ears that never stopped. He could be distracted from it, for a few seconds, but that only seemed to make it more persistent. A bass note that never faded. If Link had to be honest, that was what bothered him the most.

The restraints, padded as they were, were loose enough not to hinder him too much. He found the excuse for them, his own protection, a little flimsy since he was hardly about to start hurting himself. He was willing to overlook that, however. He understood them. They were as scared of this as he was.

His eyesight had changed, too. He found himself seeing a little worse than usual—distant objects were just a little fuzzier than before. In the dark, however, he saw far better than before. Sheik had claimed it was even better than that of a Sheikah, which was impressive indeed.

His voice...still gone. That had frustrated and scared him greatly at first—how could he possibly live without it? Now, though...now he could communicate with a shaky but rapidly improving grasp on Tao's sign language, and the rest he could write on a small chit he'd been given. Not being able to talk...to whisper to Sheik at night...that was a horrible loss...but...he could live with that. After all, Tao did, didn't he? Why couldn't Link?

He could identify people by smell now, as they approached. Everyone had their unique scent, to his surprise. He knew exactly who was approaching the infirmary based on the sounds of their footsteps, and the scent that preceded them. This he found more interesting than anything upsetting...at least with those who had more pleasant scents than others.

His mouth itched. His teeth had changed. The incisors had grown a little sharper, a little longer. The rest had changed shapes, more suited for ripping and tearing than gnashing and crushing. All were capable of tearing just about anything to shreds. And they weren't done. Every now and then, he could swear he felt them shifting in response to strong feelings, like anger, but that was surely just his imagination. Truth was, he didn't want to know. He pretended he could still live in denial of what was happening to him, that everything was fine, despite that simply looking into a mirror would confirm that was far from the case.

He found he missed his eyes. They'd been his mother's. A deep sapphire, the colour of the depths of the ocean...now replaced by a light grey that occasionally shifted to amber, according to Sheik. When Link asked when it happened, Sheik was surprisingly unwilling to answer, and no one else wished to enlighten him either. Perhaps they hadn't noticed? He hoped Sheik was joking, making some sick joke...because that colour had been the same colour as the beast's...

Somewhere in the fortress, a door slammed shut, and the buzzing grew a little louder in response. He could hear _so much_ of what went on in the Studio. Distant conversations, though muffled...footsteps several floors above or below...the distant pounding of the smiths' hammers...certainly useful to a wolf on the hunt, he thought to himself bitterly. But those distant sounds only made the buzzing more prominent to him, to the point where it kept him awake at night.

"Tinnitus," Kaura had called it. "Everyone has it to some degree—seems whatever the monster's blood is doing to you is making it a worse for you—or perhaps it's simply your hearing's gotten more sensitive to it, along with everything else."

As she'd spoken, sitting five feet away, Link had been surprised to realise he could hear her heart beating in her chest. The air filling her lungs, expanding them to strain against her ribcage... She'd noticed his look, and asked him what was wrong. He'd lied, said it was nothing. The less he thought about it, the better.

The silence, and the buzzing accompanying it, was worst at night. He was left alone, then, in the infirmary's store room, which they'd converted to house him...and imprison him. There was always someone in the main room of the infirmary, ready to help (or call for it) in case something happened, but they felt it best that he was given some privacy when he slept, as if to make up for the barrage of tests and questions they levelled at him during the day. As he lay there, a small beam of light streaming in from under the door, he wished whoever was out there (Erd, judging by the smell of paper and chemicals. Ard smelled very similar, but he had a more...inky tone to him) would come and keep him company, to produce more normal sounds until he nodded off from exhaustion.

"You need to learn how to block it out," Kaura had said. "Until you do, it will always be an annoyance."

Easier said than done, he'd wanted to bark at her (literally), but he'd settled for a fierce glare instead, hoping she'd understand how he felt about her rubbish advice. If she were concerned for his wellbeing, she'd at least let him get some proper sleep...

Sometimes, when it was Sheik's turn to stand guard at night, he'd creep inside Link's room. Sheik's presence calmed him. The scent of spices, with a tiny hint of strawberries (for some reason) always made him feel at ease. Less calming were the thoughts that pervaded his mind whenever Sheik was close—an absurd sense of...possession? A desire to protect? He wasn't sure, but he found himself thinking, on more than occasion: _Mine_.

They did little but kiss, and Sheik occasionally snuck beneath the sheets to help lull Link into sleep with his body heat, which was endlessly more comforting than even the soft blankets he'd been given.

He shifted, ignoring how the chains of his rattled against each other. The gums near his molars were itching fiercely, and nothing would stop it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. That too had grown longer and shaggier, almost like fur—

He shook his head, trying to stop that train of thought from even departing the station. He'd disagreed with his father on many things, but they shared the opinion that positive thinking was important when facing adversity. This was just temporary, after all.

That slight mental hiccup had distracted him...and now the buzzing was back. Growling, and trying to ignore how animal-like that sound was, he turned onto his side and buried his head into the pillows, wishing they'd help shut the noise out...but that was difficult since the sound was, essentially, coming from _him_.

There was a knock on the door, and the smell of paper grew clearer as the door opened slightly. Erd poked his head inside, looking concerned. He flinched a little when Link turned his head to look at him. Why?

"Are you all right? I heard...you sounded angry." Erd was careful, as if every word might set him off, or something. He was right to be worried. Link had been...very angry when he'd first been told of the changes...but he'd never dream of attacking them. He wasn't even angry at _them_ , but at the damn beast!

Link gave him a weak smile, false, nodding.

Erd gave an equally weak smile in return. "Ah, sorry, I suppose I woke you, then."

Link shook his head, and made a sign.

**Awake. Cannot sleep.**

"I see...is there something I can get you? Water? Something to eat?"

**Nothing. Fine. Tired.**

Link had none of Tao's dexterity and speed when making the signs with his hands, but he was learning more and more of them every day, and since those who spent time around him also took the time to at least be able to interpret them, they got by surprisingly well. Tao assured him he would become just as fast, with time. It didn't help that Sheik was learning it faster than Link, but he supposed that was just the nature of his...lover? Graceful and majestic in absolutely fucking everything...

His momentary annoyance must have showed, because Erd swallowed thickly, the beats in his chest increasing just a little in speed. "I apologise for disturbing you, Link. Good night."

The door closed, and the lock clicked shut. Wholly unnecessary, but Link once again understood the...assurance it provided the others. He just wished the entire situation wasn't necessary in the first place.

Could he have done things differently? Probably. He was sure just about every hunter in the Studio would gladly give him their own version of what they'd have done in his stead. Many would probably have resulted in their deaths, but some might have emerged victorious and _without_ the presence of...what had Kaura called it? Foreign cells invading, adapting, and thriving with his system? He hadn't liked the sound of that.

Kafei and Mana assured him they'd have done the same thing, were their roles reversed at the time, but it wasn't as much of a comfort as they'd hoped.

You don't have to be afraid of me, he thought.

He missed being able to say that...

* * *

Sometime later, there was a change in the air. Link smiled as he heard the footsteps approaching the infirmary, followed by the hint of spices. There was a gentle knock on the outer door, which Erd opened. There was a brief, hushed conversation, so quiet Link couldn't hear it through the door. Erd chuckled, and then the door opened once more, and his footsteps quickly left the same way.

The lock to Link's room then clicked, and the door slid open. Sheik gave Link a smile when he came through, carrying his circular oil lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow. He closed the door behind him.

"Hope I didn't wake you," he murmured as he shed his coat, hanging it over a chair, and then pulling off his boots. Link shook his head. "Still can't sleep very well, huh?"

Link signed. **Ears loud. Nightmares.**

The less said about _those_...

Sheik hummed in sympathy, removing his jacket and moving to stand next to Link's bed, waiting as if he was asking permission. "I know you're having a rough night...do you mind if I...?"

Link quickly shuffled to the side, allowing Sheik to climb into the bed beside him. As soon as Sheik was within reach, Link tucked his face into the crook of Sheik's neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, blushing all the while. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to do this, or why it seemed to provide him with more comfort than all other efforts combined...but there it was. Add the delightful little shivers Sheik produced whenever he did this, and...well, Link saw no reason to stop.

"At first I was afraid I smelled bad, but clearly that's not the case," Sheik whispered, eyes widening slightly when Link quickly claimed his lips in a kiss. He responded soon enough, moving his lips against Link's, moaning a little as the Hylian's hands roamed all over his body. He didn't do anything, just lightly touching where he could, as if to confirm he was still there.

Withdrawing to let them draw breaths, Link gently knocked his forehead against Sheik's, carefully running a finger beneath the scar on his cheek. He'd taken to wearing his cowl a lot more among the hunters lately. Had they commented on it, maybe? Was he embarrassed? If someone made fun of him for it, Link would show them his displeasure...

"It's nothing," Sheik said, practically reading Link's mind. "Just...I don't like it, is all."

Link harrumphed, giving Sheik a glare before pointedly kissing the scar, humming. And then he inhaled once more, expecting nothing but the scent of Sheik, but...there was something else. A hint of steel and...blood? Moving away so he could look at Sheik, he narrowed his eyes. A sudden anger had welled up within him. Someone else had left a hint of their scent on Sheik, had touched him... _touched him without permission!_

**Who touch?**

Link's sign was sudden, and it took Sheik a moment to remember what he was seeing. His eyes widened even more than before, and then he looked away.

"Just...another hunter. He wanted to see the scar, that's all—"

**No touch. Who?**

Link felt like a child, having to communicate like this, but his chit was on the table at the other end of the room, and he didn't want Sheik that far away, all of a sudden. He touched Sheik's chin and gently guided the Sheikah to look back at him.

"It's not important, Link, it's just—"

Link settled for glaring this time. It worked.

"Eugh, it's just this human...his name is Iteos. Assassin from one of the kingdoms near Lumina. Pretty sure he only became a hunter to escape a hangman's noose, but he's good at what he does, so...never liked the bastard, myself." Sheik sighed. "He came back from the watchtower today, and he noticed the scar. Wanted to see it, so he pulled down my cowl and touched it. That's all. Reno chased him away afterwards."

Link cocked his head at the unfamiliar name.

"Another hunter who just got back from patrol," Sheik explained as Link slowly began to rub his cheek against Sheik's scarred one. The smell of this Iteos had to go away, right now!

If Sheik noticed what he was doing, he didn't make a comment, only continued to explain.

"He always beats Iteos during sparring, and is about the only person he's afraid of. I'm pretty sure they knew each other before becoming hunters, too, because they certainly seem to share a history...mostly of hatred, but still."

Link hummed again, and then kissed Sheik once more. He'd gotten rid of Iteos' scent, mostly, and that was good enough for now. When Sheik kissed back, Link grew a little bolder, licking almost shyly at Sheik's lips, which parted and allowed his tongue inside. The feeling of exploring Sheik's mouth, their tongues duelling...was always so indescribable to him. It made his heart gallop like it was about to explode, filled him with heat, and warmth, and comfort...and said heat quickly spread to other places. He felt and heard Sheik's heart beating wildly too, and a growing hardness between the Sheikah's legs.

Got to see to that, Link thought, letting his hand ghost over Sheik's groin, eliciting a moan from the hunter, muffled by their joined faces.

"We...shouldn't..." Sheik said, panting from the lack of air. "What if...someone...comes...?"

Link huffed, and slid his hand under Sheik's shirt, making it clear what he thought of that possibility. As he found a nipple and pinched it, Sheik practically whined and quickly thrust against his other hand.

So that is your weak spot, Link thought with a grin, continuing his ministrations.

It was a long night, and all the while a single word kept repeating itself in Link's mind, was spoken silently on his lips, was expressed with his every touch, his every action.

**_Mine!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link's a possessive wolfie, it seems!


	50. The Spies Revealed

Erd smiled to himself as he walked away from the infirmary, not believing for a second that Sheik had been asked to relieve him of watch duties. The boy was painfully transparent sometimes, but Erd didn't have the heart to tell him that. Of course he'd want to spend as much time with his partner (in all senses of the word) as possible. Whatever they got up to while he was away...well, it wasn't his business.

Paranoia didn't come easily to Erd. He'd seen the physical changes Link was going through, but so far he had yet to see a difference in personality or anything that would make Erd consider him a danger, either to himself or others. The restraints, in his opinion, were unnecessary, but they seemed to be the only thing stopping Impa and the other senior hunters from putting a bullet in his skull, so they would stay on for now. In the meantime, he was perfectly willing to give the two some privacy. Anyway, he had some cultures to see to anyway, so it was as good a time as any to have a look.

He was brought out of his musings by movement ahead, and a hunter came into the hall, heading the opposite way. The hunter paused, glancing up at him...and grinned. Erd did not.

When did this clown get back? he wondered, continuing on his way and hoping to the fates that the other human wouldn't—

"Good evening, Erd," Iteos said, standing directly in his way and refusing to move, even when Erd made efforts to bypass him. "Strange to see you out and about at this hour. You're usually in the lab this late, aren't you?"

"I was on my way there now, Mister Iteos," Erd said politely. "Good evening to you."

"Now, now, no need to be so formal, Erd," Iteos said, putting a much unwelcome hand on his shoulder. "We rarely get any time to speak. I wanted to take the opportunity to thank you for looking at the schematics I submitted last spring. I heard they weren't exactly what you were looking for?"

Erd glared at the hand, but Iteos refused to take it away. The hunter was taller than him by half a head, and definitely outweighed him in terms of muscle, but... "Yes, I'm afraid your nerve agent was a bit more...pain-inducing than what we had in mind. We're trying to _ease_ suffering, after all, not increase it."

Iteos chuckled. "Well, I can only apologise for that. Remnant of my past, you know. Sometimes we were called upon to...make things rather painful before finishing our targets. Something of my own design, that agent, but I'm sure you can find some use for it at some point. After all, at some point we can't worry too much about the beasts' suffering either, can we?"

"I do not involve myself in the business of hunters," Erd said, trying to pull away, only to find Iteos gripping his shoulder a little harder than necessary. His heart was starting to beat harder and harder. "I only help design and build your tools."

"Which we very much appreciate," Iteos said, leaning closer so he could look directly into Erd's eyes. "In fact, I'd like to show you my... _appreciation_...in a more personal manner, if you understand?"

Erd fought the urge to roll his eyes at the older man. Tact, subtlety, and knowing your target were clearly not key disciplines in whatever miserable little assassination school had churned out this pathetic specimen. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said, finally succeeding in shaking the hand off his shoulder, missing the slight glint of annoyance in Iteos' eyes as he did so. "But I'm not particularly interested in that sort of thing, least of all with you. Good night, _Mister_ Iteos."

He tried to step around Iteos once more, and the world lurched. He grunted as his back slammed into the stone wall behind him, Iteos' forearm braced against his throat, the other human's face inches from his own.

"I tried to be nice," Iteos growled. His breath stank of strong spirits, almost making Erd gag. "But I have just spent several weeks stuck in that miserable tower, and I'm not going to take no for an answer. You and I are going to have a good time, understand?"

Erd thought back to his childhood. The years spent in misery travelling from village to village in Lumina, reviled for the intellect he and his brother possessed. Treated like monsters just for being smarter than the average... Iteos' threats, while unpleasant, were far from the worst Erd had gotten...or lived through. He was only glad it wasn't his brother Iteos had run into—Erd would do anything to spare Ard more of this. He gave Iteos a slight grin, and let his hand ghost slightly over the rapidly forming bulge between Iteos' legs.

Good gods, he thought. He actually gets off on this sort of thing...

"That's it," Iteos said, eyes half-lidded. "Good boy..." He eased the pressure off Erd's throat a little, which was exactly what Erd needed.

"Not really," he told Iteos, and grabbed him...and _squeezed_.

Iteos didn't even make a sound. His face went white, eyes bulging, breath hissing out of his throat like a whistle as he let Erd go. The scientist pushed away from the wall, let go of the hunter's crotch, and delivered a knee to the site instead. The hunter went down like a sack of potatoes, whimpering and holding his damaged pride.

Erd rubbed his throat. There'd be bruises, he knew. And that meant a worried Ard, which was just about the worst thing in the world next to a sad Ard. Crouching next to Iteos, he waited until the man was looking back at him, at which he delivered the best death-stare he could muster, and said quietly:

"You're drunk, so I'm willing to let this go. But if I hear about anything like this involving you again, I'll be forced to tell Impa. We both know how she feels about rapists, don't we? So, I think it's in your best interest to go to your cell, and sleep this off." He went to leave, thought of something, and spoke once more. "Oh, and stay the hell away from my brother. Understand?"

To his credit, Iteos had the intelligence to nod at that. Erd smiled and patted his shoulder. "Good boy."

He whistled happily all the way back to the lab, wondering if he could fashion some sort of skin-cream to hide the forming bruises.

* * *

_**Alpha** _

The word was scrawled on the blackboard in the dungeon. Impa looked at it thoughtfully before replacing the chalk in its holder, turning to the gathered hunters.

"As good a name as any, I'd say," she told them, nodding to the remains of the beast's skull, placed in the middle of the table.

A giant hole in the back of it told the tale of the monster's death. The smell of the carcass had gotten so bad along with its decomposition that they'd burned the thing before it spread some sort of sickness on top of whatever Link was suffering through. Kaura and the twins had gotten about as much information as they needed from it anyway, and had composed an elaborate series of sketches of its anatomy.

"Alpha," Ayla said, as if tasting the word. "I like it. Makes it clear what it is." She paused. "Er...what is it, anyway?"

Impa nodded to Erd, who stepped forward. He rubbed at his throat, clearing it. from beneath his high collar, the edge of a bruise could be seen. She frowned, and made a note to ask him about it later.

"From what my brother, Doctor Kaura, and myself have been able to deduce based on our tests and comparisons with blood samples taken from Brother Hunter Link and the lycanthrope Bob, currently housed in our dungeons, we are looking at the original source of the lycanthrope infection." He pointed at the skull with his pen. "More precisely, the infection is in its saliva, transferred with a bite."

Kafei hummed. "So, all this time trying to find its vector has been—"

"An utter waste, yes," Erd said, nodding. "Turns out that these things that are the ones keeping you lot employed."

Mana sighed loudly. "So...Link is going to turn into a lycan, then? It bit him—"

"Not quite," Kaura said, also stepping forward. She had three pieces of paper, on which she'd sketched a series of different-looking circles in seemingly nonsensical patterns. Some were empty, others half-filled, while the rest were completely filled. "Now, I have tried to simplify this as much as I can without compromising the meaning, so please bear with me."

She pointed to the first paper, with the empty circles. "Consider these the cells of a completely average Hylian, untouched by chronic disease and such. Unless he contracts some sort of illness that does permanent damage to his body's chemistry, they will remain like this until they slowly lose the ability to replicate themselves, and he ages, and dies."

She pointed to the next paper, with the completely filled circles. "These are a lycanthrope's cells, samples thoughtfully provided by Bob in the dungeons—and speaking of whom, I hope you are planning to put him out of his misery at some point in the near future—"

"We will," Impa assured her, not willing to endure another tongue-lashing for the highly unethical experiments she was ordering. She had scheduled for Bob to be terminated within the next two weeks, after the last of his cultures could be analysed.

"Good—now, as I said, these are the cells of a lycanthrope after a full transformation following the initial infection, delivered by a bite, as Erd pointed out. I do not know for certain how long this transformation takes as I have not witnessed it in person, but according to several accounts by old hunters taken from your archives, it takes little longer than a week or two for it to occur. And it is easy to tell something is wrong due to the way this disease twists and contorts the sufferer's body to the wolf-like facsimile that most of you have spent your lives killing." She let her gaze sweep across the gathered hunters, waiting for their agreement, which came in small nods.

Hafthor made a sound. "Link was bitten over two weeks ago..."

"And has yet to turn into something that even resembles Bob," Erd said. "True, some...features have appeared. His seemingly miraculous healing ability, for one. His entire neck, save for his vocal chords, regenerated in a matter of days. His teeth, as well, have become more appropriate for a carnivore than an omnivore. His eyes have changed colour, and his hair has grown a little thicker."

"He has also," Kaura continued, "admitted to gaining an enhanced sense of smell, hearing, and night vision, to the point where it rivals and even exceeds that of a Sheikah. He also appears to have become slightly near-sighted, but not by much."

"So, he's changing...but by how much?" Elenwe looked impatient, glaring at the two of them. "Are you ever going to get to the point?"

"My point," Kaura said firmly as she pointed to the last piece of paper, with the half-filled circles, "is this. This is the current state of his body—from the illustration, you can see that it is _different_ from that of a lycanthrope like Bob."

"But that can change, can't it?" Kiro asked. He had an uneasy frown on his face, looking between the papers and the Alpha's skull. "Or is there something unique about it?"

"Good question," Kaura said, nodding. "There is, actually, something different at play. Because this illustration?" She pointed at the half-circles. "It could also be used to describe the Alpha."

All eyes in the room landed on the skull at that moment, some in disbelief, some in horror, some in vague interest.

"With one key difference, of course," Kaura continued. "For one, this Alpha used to be a human. Apart from that...they're mostly identical."

"So Link...is becoming...that?" Kafei asked, gesturing to the skull. "How?"

"We've tried to come up with a reason, and the best we've found is: blood." Erd pointed at the hole in the skull, its edges bent outward by the exit of Link's bullet. "Link shot it in the head, after which it collapsed on top of him. The Alpha's blood intermingled with his, entering his system. It seems to have immediately granted him the healing abilities, and eliminating the lycanthrope infection, before it began to heal his neck." He shook his head. "A flimsy hypothesis, I admit, but I am not sure what else it could be. What I _am_ sure of, however, is that he will _not_ turn into a lycanthrope. The timeframe for that has already come and gone, and he remains, mostly, Hylian."

"He will, of course, be kept under close observation for the time being," Kaura took over. "But I will also protest strongly against his restraints. He has shown no signs of being a danger either to himself or others, and while he won't say it himself, it is incredibly damaging psychologically to be locked up like he is."

"If you are asking me to just let him come and go through the Studio as he pleases—"Impa began, but Kaura cut her off with a glare.

"Of course not," she said. "Gods know what else will happen in the coming days, but I'm saying that he should at least be allowed to roam around a room at will, rather than be chained to the bed like the poor bastards in the asylums." She tapped the sketch with a finger, frowning. "Put him one of your hunter's cells, even. From what I can tell those things are rather sturdy. It would certainly free up some workspace for me again—the infirmary is far too crowded these days."

Impa remained quiet for a moment, leaning on her cane. There were too many uncertainties about the situation for her to be even remotely comfortable with the idea of letting Link walk around unchained. She felt for the boy, she really did. He hadn't asked for this, hadn't meant to be infected...but he still was. And now something was happening to him that no amount of experience or consulting the journals and tomes of her predecessors and ancestors could help clear up. She glanced at the Alpha skull. "Mana, Kafei," she said, drawing their attention to her. "How intelligent would you say this thing was, when you hunted it?"

"Smarter than anything else I've hunted," Mana said immediately. "It used the wolf pack to draw us in, and laid an ambush. It divided us, prevented us from presenting a united front against it. If Link hadn't lured it away and shot it...we'd all be dead by now, and you'd have no idea what happened." She nodded to herself. "Very intelligent."

"Could it have communicated, do you think?"

"Hard to say," Kafei said. "It was more interested in killing us, but...maybe?"

"Hmph," Impa grunted, glaring at the skull. "Has Brother Link shown any signs of...losing himself? A decrease in reason, in intelligence?"

They all glanced at her for calling Link a Brother Hunter, but Kaura quickly spoke again.

"His mental faculties remain the same—he is learning Tao's sign language to express himself, and writes down what he can't say with it. Surprisingly shrewd when it comes to seeing through a physician's lies, I must say." She met Impa's gaze steadily. "He is not devolving, if that is what you are asking."

"I'm just concerned," Impa said. She paced back and forth a little, thinking. She stopped. Sighed. "Fine, we will prepare one of the cells for him. He's earned as much. However, he is not to leave it until we can be absolutely certain he won't become... _that_." The skull seemed to grin back at her, empty eye sockets staring into her soul. "As long as _he_ remains in control...I will agree to that."

Hafthor and Ayla exchanged doubtful glances. "Are you sure about that, master?" Ayla asked. "What if he turns—"

"I am sure the good doctor will inform me as soon as she notices a change in his behaviour," Impa interrupted her. "And, if necessary, put him down before he becomes a problem. Am I right, doctor?"

Kaura looked ready to throttle the master hunter, but nodded. "Yes," she said. "I will assume responsibility for him."

Impa nodded, suddenly feeling her age catching up to her, and wishing for nothing more than to go to bed and will all this away, to pretend it was all a nightmare and that her nephew _wasn't_ romantically involved with some sort of super-lycanthrope. She paused at that thought. She'd have to make sure there wasn't any _biting_ involved in...whatever they got up to. Her face went grey.

Oh sister, she thought. How I wish you were alive right now.

There were some more protests from Hafthor and Ayla, but they accepted the arrangement soon enough, and as the hunters began filing out of the dungeon, she noticed that Kiro remained behind, holding a leather-wrapped bundle in his arms. He touched Erd's shoulder as he went to leave as well.

"Will you and the doctor please compile all the information you have gathered on the Alpha into a single tome for me?" she asked. "I would like to study it on my own."

"Of course, master," Erd said, nodding.

"And," she said, stepping closer and lowering her voice to a whisper, "we _will_ be discussing those bruises on your neck later. Understood?"

He blanched, but nodded once more. "Of course."

"Good, off you go." She watched him leave before turning to Kiro. "I assume you have something to show me?" she asked.

"I do," Kiro said, placing the bundle on the table, well away from the skull. "I've finished the repeater." He uncovered the device, and Impa could do little but marvel at the piece of engineering Kiro had managed to put back together. She hadn't seen one of these since she was a child! "I finished it this morning. I wanted to present it to Link, but with all that's happened lately...should I?"

Impa ran a finger along the delicate brass-and-wood framework, marvelling at the restoration job the younger Sheikah had done. "It works?" she asked.

Kiro demonstrated by cocking the weapon. It sounded exactly as it should, and she could see the mechanism moving within, pulling at the string. "Just need to make some quarrels, and it's good to go," he said. "I've already commissioned the tips from Roy, and the shafts are almost ready."

Impa took a long moment to consider it, and finally nodded. "You can give it to him, but keep the ammunition away for now."

Kiro smiled broadly at that, and nodded. "As you wish. Thank you, master." He wrapped the repeater back up and headed for the door, stopping just shy of it. "And for the record, I don't think Link will ever turn on us. Besides, consider what sort of advantage having someone like him as a hunter could give us."

As he left, Impa sighed, muttering, "Nothing would make me happier than knowing that for certain, Kiro..."

The trip back to her study was long and ponderous, and she could feel a headache coming on. The next meeting, while dull, would hopefully be short. After all, the digging crews had only had _one_ job the past week...and honestly, how difficult could mounting a gate be, anyway?

* * *

"Not here either—vamp's been through all of it."

Nikal kept her eyes on the staircase outside the boss' office, making sure no one could sneak up on them as they tried to find any sort of information that could help them contact the hunters outside Hyrule. So far, they'd found nothing. The vampire's goons had turned over the entire office earlier, and destroyed anything they didn't take. It was a wonder they hadn't burned down the whole building, just to spite what was left of the network.

"Try the corner of the desk," she said. "Towards the window. Knocked my foot against it once, felt hollow."

Eren did as she said, ducking behind the desk, muttering under his breath. "Stupid...why couldn't the boss just hide _something_ normally?"

Nikal didn't answer. It was raining outside, the temperature just above freezing. They'd have to find somewhere warmer than their previous shelter for the night, if they ever got out of this place. If she were a little braver, she'd suggest that they spend the night here, but knowing their luck the vampire's men would show up at some point, and the last thing she wanted was to be cornered here.

They'd delivered the noble's letter anonymously to the main Watch station, but so far nothing had come of it. Known agents of the vampire were left alone by the constables, and the agents' pursuit of what was left of Sheik's little spies had only intensified. She growled at the thought. She'd bet the noble had sold them out—she hadn't read the letter before delivering it. Stupid. She'd been so damn stupid, so...relieved to finally find someone on their side in this fucking city, and just done as he'd said...and now his manor had been locked down so tight they'd have no chance of ever getting close to him again. Should have slit his throat when she'd had the chance...

"Hostage my arse," she muttered. "Bet he's in on it, all of it."

"Huh?"

"Keep looking," she barked, peeking out the door and down the staircase. The bloodstains of the man she'd killed that night were still there. Felt like an eternity ago, just barely a month had passed. She'd been a mess the first couple of days, both from the act, as well as the mild concussion she suspected she'd gotten.

There was the sound of splintering wood, and she glanced back inside the office, where Eren made a triumphant sound, pulling something out of the boss' now ruined desk. "A key," Eren announced, holding it out to her. "An old one, by the looks of it."

"Matches the locks in the basement," Nikal said. "Might be something down there."

They doused the lamps in the office and brought a lantern with them downstairs, into the basement of the old building. The air stank of mould and mildew, of rotting wood. The foundations down here were cracked, letting water seep in during heavy rains. Water froze, making the cracks bigger. The building wasn't far from collapse, and only the boss' tenancy kept the owner from demolishing it...

There were a series of filing cabinets, old and rusted, lined up against a wall. Old and disused, left down there by previous tenants. Unlocked and contents spilling onto the floor. Old paper long since dissolved and congealed into a blob, stinking of rot. All but one...which was closed, locked. It lay on its side, seemingly exactly the same as the others...save for the shinier lock.

The vamp's men weren't the brightest lot, apparently, if they'd missed that. Eren had zeroed in on it as well, and she nodded. "Open it."

He did, pulling out the top drawer. "Empty," he said, opening the next. "Also empty." There were only three drawers, and from what Nikal could see, it was much the same. She sighed—so much for hope, then. Boss would come back, if he survived the other vampire, and find his entire network dismantled and the city under control by a damn _monster_...

There was a click, and Eren grinned. "Concealed bottom," he said, lifting the metal plate. "There's a book."

A journal, from the looks of it. Summarised accounts of hunts undertaken by the boss...and a list of names, and addresses. Ciphered, of course, but the boss had taught them this one for just an occasion like this. If only he'd been as forthcoming with the actual location of this damn thing...but right now Nikal could have kissed him. She did kiss Eren on the cheek, prompting a loud "Hey!" from him, but she didn't care.

"Finally," she muttered. "Progress."

"Just have to decide where to send the letter, and find a courier to deliver it," Eren said. "But...maybe we should read it first, in case the bastard wrote something else."

She agreed with that, and was about to say as much, when she heard them. Footsteps. Many. Voices whispering. The building's main doors opened, letting the cold in...as well as the riffraff. Eren pulled her up against the wall, dousing their lantern as well, trying to hide from the light the intruders brought as they spread through the building.

"Spread out," a female voice announced. "Cover all exits, on all floors."

The voice was loud, and filled with nothing but malice. Nikal shivered, and she was pretty sure it wasn't from the cold. Behind her, she felt Eren shifting as he drew his knife. She did the same. There were no windows down here, no convenient sewer entrances...no way out. They heard boots on the stairs to the basement, a slight pause in the steps.

Fuck, Nikal thought. Tracks.

The dust down here was so thick; they were bound to leave tracks wherever they walked.

"Mistress," a gruff voice called, and a lighter set of footsteps approached. "There."

"Well done, Avi," the woman said with a purr. "You two, down there," she announced. "I know it was you, at the manor last week. I don't take lightly to intruders, especially not little rats working for bloodeyes. Come on out, and I might be inclined to show you mercy."

Nikal shook her head. She refused to answer. Eren was shaking, and she put her hand on his. She was afraid too. There was no such thing as mercy here—they'd known since the moment they'd seen Tinn get stabbed in the street, his throat cut and left to bleed out. Whatever she'd planned for them, who'd caused her so much trouble, would undoubtedly be worse.

"You have five seconds to show yourselves," the woman announced. "Or we're coming down. Five...four..."

"Hide the journal," Eren whispered, and Nikal stuffed it into the nearest cabinet as quietly as possible. "Nik, it's been fun." He gave her a wide grin, which she returned.

"Nice knowing you, Er," she replied.

"...one...all right, you asked for it. Avi?"

What happened next was a blur, as the footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Eren and Nikal rushed forward, directly into the dark shapes. Nikal had sharpened her knives specifically for this, and she felt the blades easily cutting through the enemies' clothes and flesh, making them scream and bleed all over her. She cut, twisted, jumped, slashed, refusing to stay still long enough to present a target. Someone tried to grab her from behind, but she twisted out of their grip and went for their throat, her teeth sinking into and tearing at the vulnerable skin. It broke, filling her mouth with blood, and her ear with screams.

She lost track of Eren, who disappeared among the dark bodies. She kicked out, hooking her blade around, and then into the heel of someone's boots, severing the vulnerable tendon within. A fist clubbed her around the ears, and she stumbled, disoriented. Someone grabbed her arm, she sank her knife's blade into their wrist, but lost her grip on the handle as they pulled away.

She drew her stiletto, still dizzy. Something struck her heavily in the stomach, knocking the air out of her. She fell to her knees, spotted a foot in front of her. She stabbed her stiletto right into it, to the hilt. The man fell, writhing. Behind him, Eren was on the floor, bleeding from the head. She wanted to scream, but it only came out as a croak.

Her arms were wrenched behind her back, so hard one nearly popped out of its socket. She whimpered, and a fist clipped her on the head again. Her vision swam, the floor tiles blurring, coming in and out of focus.

Her scalp burned as someone grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, looking up as a woman stepped into view. Her face was unclear, but Nikal could see her grinning mouth...and the pair of canines far too long for a normal person. The vampire herself.

"So, I finally found you," she said, crouching down to look Nikal in the eyes. Her eyes were cold and dead, like the rest of her face, pale and cruel. "Little rats, scurrying from hole to hole. You've killed quite a few of my men, you know. Visited horrible things upon them. I have to admit, I was impressed by the cruelty some had been shown. Tell me, did your master teach you the trick with the fingernails, or did you figure it out on your own?"

"Go...to hell..." Nikal wheezed, unable to conceal her glances towards Eren's limp body.

The woman noticed, and laughed. "Avi, dear, how is the boy? Still alive?"

"Still breathing, mistress," a man Nikal assumed to be Avi replied.

"Good, good," the vampire said, nodding. "Means he can still be of use to us. I wonder if our dear lord has small enough shackles...?"

"Can easily be arranged," Avi replied, his voice as even and blank as his face.

"Excellent," the vampire announced, rising. "I reckon there is much these two can tell us...not to mention the entertainment they'll provide us all with." She glanced back down at Nikal, meeting her gaze evenly. "Oh yes," she said. "We'll have a lot of fun, the three of us."

Something slammed into the back of Nikal's head, and all she knew was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn it, Dehl...


	51. The Pile

For a few seconds, Sheik's life was nothing but warmth and a comforting weight over his chest. His ears were filled with the quiet snores of his companions, soothed by knowing they were all safe. He wasn't sure what time it was—the cell had no windows, and his watch was in his jacket, which was too far away for him to bother with the effort to extract himself from beneath the bodies of his sleeping companions...

... _bodie_ s _?_ he thought, realising there were more weight and sets of breathing than there were supposed to.

He cracked an eye open and threw a cursory look around the small cell Link had been moved to. There were no lights, but with his Sheikah eyes that was never much of a problem. In the dark, he could make out...

_One...two...three...four...and with me...that's five...what on earth?_

It took a good five seconds before he even remembered what had happened the night before. Moving Link to his new cell had taken a group effort due to how weak he still was, and he wouldn't let anyone but _his_ people touch him, according to the Hylian. Sheik wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he did know that it took himself, Zelda, Lor, Kaura, and Tao to get Link back to his cell, after which Link had refused to let them leave.

It had been difficult to explain, even to himself, but Link claimed he felt safer and more...secure, with them nearby rather than spread all over the fortress. There'd been grumbles from all, especially Kaura, who had used a suspiciously convenient accidental gunshot wound as an excuse to leave, abandoning Tao to his plight, which surprised Sheik quite a bit...but then, perhaps she trusted the rest of them to keep her apprentice safe, along with the armed hunter outside the door.

Of course, the others had tried to leave too, but then Link had turned what Sheik could only describe as the most perfect set of puppy eyes on them, making himself look utterly pathetic and in need of comfort...and every single one of them had fallen under the spell. He wondered if that was a skill Link had always possessed, or if it was something he'd learned after the changes...either way, he'd have to learn how to fight that influence, or Sheik would find himself wrapped around Link's little finger soon...

 _Oh, who am I kidding, I already am, aren't I?_ he thought, grunting when Tao's elbow dug itself into his stomach. _Otherwise I wouldn't be here...sleeping in a bloody puppy pile..._

How on earth that had happened, Sheik still had no idea. Presumably because Link's cot was the only soft-ish surface in the cell, and the need for warmth. If Impa caught them all sleeping like this, on top of each other with arms and legs sticking out everywhere, Link somehow on the bottom _and_ the top at the same time with a look of utter peace on his face...well, Sheik would just die of shame, wouldn't he?

Zelda snorted in her sleep, burying her face in Lor's shoulder. Sheik would have laughed at such an undignified sound coming from the princess, but then...he'd heard far worse from her. At least she wasn't grinding her teeth anymore—that sound had driven him insane when they were younger.

Lor stirred a little, and yawned, clearly returning to the land of the living. He made a surprised grunt when he tried to move, suddenly realising he was trapped under the combined weight of Zelda and Tao.

"Good morning," Sheik whispered, realising Lor couldn't see a damn thing. He had the most adorable look of bleary-eyed confusion on his face. "I was hoping I'd get some company in this little bout of insanity we've apparently suffered."

"Are we...is this Link's room?" He turned his head in Sheik's direction, and Sheik reached out to touch his hand. "What happened?"

"Link decided to be a mother hen, it seems," Sheik replied. "Wouldn't let us leave, insisted we sleep in a pile...fuck if I know. I have decided not to think too hard on it for the time being. Plenty of time for panic and anxiety later, I'm sure."

Lor snorted. He was taking this surprisingly well, all things considered. Perhaps he didn't realise the face that was trying to burrow into his shoulder belonged to his princess. Sheik contemplated telling him, just to see his reaction and how quickly he'd crawl out from under the pile. "Mother hen? More like mother wolf, if what Doctor Kaura told us is true."

Sheik frowned a little at that. While it'd been a relief to be told that Link wasn't going to become anything like Bob, it was still...disconcerting. What did becoming an Alpha, as she'd called it, mean? Would Link turn into a wolf-monster like that completely, or would he retain his Hylian appearance? Kaura's lack of answers to that was of no comfort whatsoever, but he couldn't blame her or the twins for not knowing much—they'd never seen anything like it, after all. That Link wasn't considered an immediate threat, however, was a welcome development. Just being allowed to leave the infirmary and assigned a room of his own meant that Impa and the other senior hunters weren't going to have Link killed...at least, not yet.

"You know, I can _hear_ you overthinking it," Lor whispered with a chuckle. "How many times do I have to tell you to simply take it one day at a time?"

"Easy for you to say," Sheik whispered. "You have a _cat_ for a paramour, I got a wolf."

That drew a guffaw from Lor, which woke Tao with a start. He too seemed confused as to where he was for a moment, before shrugging to himself and lying back down.

"But in all seriousness," Sheik continued. "I'm just...I don't need any more surprises. Link deserves some rest and a chance to recover...we all need it, I think."

Kaura had taken the time to carefully explain to Link what she believed was happening to him, and what he could possibly expect in the future. She had never in her career as a physician seen anything like this, and frankly, it was all ridiculous but she was trying her hardest, damn it! For all she knew, Link might end up just like the creature that had bit him in the first place. Link had taken a long moment to think about it, nodded, and made a single hand sign.

**All right.**

None of them knew what to do with that calm acceptance of his possible fate, but Link hadn't wanted to elaborate, only insisting that he was tired and wanted to sleep, at which point they'd all tried to leave and...well, Sheik now knew the result of _that_ attempt.

"Well, with any luck, this'll be the most exciting thing to happen this winter," Lor said, sounding as unconvinced of his own words as Tao's snort in response.

"With my luck, the bloody world will end before the solstice," Sheik muttered. "Or we'll come back to Hyrule and find that Eren and Nikal accidentally burned it all to the ground."

Zelda mumbled something, still sleeping like a rock, and wrapped her arms tighter around Lor, who suddenly stiffened.

"Sheik?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Lor?"

"Who is sleeping on me?"

"The person who is currently snoring and trying to burrow into you would be Zelda XIV, Princess and future Queen of Hyrule, my dear Lorasi."

There was a long moment of silence and anticipation, before Lor's quiet voice spoke again:

"Sheik, what do I do?"

* * *

Iteos fought the urge to glare at the woman he had to call "Master". She was behind her desk, pinning him with a piercing look that surely had weaker men trembling at the knees. Not him, though. He'd found himself at the end of that look so many times it had lost all effect. If anything, it only served to annoy him now. The white-haired little boffin had blabbed, then.

Truthfully, Iteos could barely remember even having approached him—he'd been quite confused when he woke up the day after with a horrid ache between his legs. He'd almost gone after Erd once more to teach him a lesson, but he'd caught himself in time, remembering that the freaks were under Impa's protection and that they were, supposedly, on the same side.

For now, anyway.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Impa asked, arms crossed and leaning back in her chair, eyes narrowed. Iteos was sure he could take her, if he truly wanted. She was fast, true, but her leg was a liability. He'd have his blade in her throat before she could call out. He forced that thought away and took a breath.

"Nothing," he said. "I have nothing to say in my defence, because there is no defence for what I did. I was drunk, and I wasn't thinking. I should not have laid hands on Erd, and I completely deserved what he did in return. I do not bear any grudges, and I can only hope that he will someday forgive me for my uncouth advances. This will not happen again, I swear."

If she'd expected him to give excuses, she didn't show it. Instead, she nodded. "This isn't the first time this has happened, Iteos," she said. "Last year, you tried to—"

"I know what I tried, Master," he said, almost rolling his eyes.

"And you gave me the same promise as then," she pointed out. "So much for that, hm?"

"I am a weak man, Master."

"Hmph, and can you give me a single reason for why I shouldn't send you right back to that tower, and make you spend the rest of winter there?"

He hesitated. "No reasons as such...apart from that you're going to need me if there is an emergency."

"Are you _expecting_ any emergencies, Iteos?"

"I _always_ expect emergencies, Master," he said, widening his eyes a little. "It's how I've stayed alive for so long. Prepare for the worst, and all that. You never know what might...break free..." He dropped his tone purposefully at the end. He wasn't sure what had happened in his absence, but it had set fire to the rumour mill.

The theories were wild, everything from coups to beasts in the basement to bestial relations with lycanthropes under the full moon—that was his favourite. The real thing would never be that exciting, of course, so he settled for the most likely alternative: the senior hunters were hiding something...and it was likely something alive. Based on Impa's nearly imperceptible, fractionally widened eyes, he knew he'd struck...well, if not gold, then at least silver.

"Not to mention," he continued, "that I vow to lay off alcohol for the rest of the season. I will not touch the stuff again until I'm well away from the Studio."

That bit was actually true. He needed to be sober, in order for the plan to succeed. That night had been...an accident, as well as a way to maintain his cover. His friends had insisted he drink with them.

Hah, friends...he'd sooner drop them in a quagmire than call them that.

Impa looked annoyed, but nodded slowly. "Very well, I will go against my better judgement and give you one more chance." She rose to her feet, so they were the same height (she was actually a little taller, now that he thought about it), glaring fiercely. "But if something like this happens again, or if I catch you drinking, or even stepping within ten feet of my nephew...know that I'll be inclined to point the...taxmen, as you called them, in the right direction."

Out on my arse and on my own with an army of assassins on my tail, Iteos mentally translated. He'd expected as much. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stand being around the stuffy bastard hunters anyway. Ascal was like a godsend, really. A proper way out of the hole he had, admittedly, dug himself into.

"Is that understood, _brother_?" she asked.

"Perfectly, _Master_ ," he replied, turning on his heels and marching out of her study.

And with any luck, soon he'd have a chance to show her just how efficient his wrist blade could really be...

* * *

Sheik headed for the forges with some trepidation. He hadn't spoken to Hafthor since he'd expressed his support for putting a bullet in Link's head before even giving him a chance to prove he wasn't a monster. He wasn't sure if the older Sheikah had cared about the silent treatment all that much, but the fact that he'd sent Reno to fetch him rather than do it himself showed that he was aware of how tense their relationship was right now, at least.

"Haf sent me to get you," Reno had said, interrupting Sheik and Link in the middle of their sign lesson with Tao, much to the mute boy's displeasure. Reno seemed more amused than anything by Tao's tapping foot, clearly unaware of how vengeful the boy could be. "Said he's got something for you."

The walk to the workshops had been mostly silent, but Sheik couldn't help himself after a few moments of tense silence, having noticed a certain awkwardness about the human's movements. "Why are you limping?" he asked.

"None of your business," Reno had answered promptly, not even looking at him.

Sheik grinned. "Hafthor was _that_ happy to see you again, huh?"

"I said none of your business," Reno repeated, his voice strained by annoyance.

"I'm sure Doctor Kaura has something that could help with any aches—"

"One more word, and I'll show you the quick way down a long stairwell, Sheik. I'm very good at making it look like an accident, you know."

Sheik raised his hands in defeat. "All right, all right."

"You know where to find him," Reno said as the hallway split, and he headed in the opposite direction. "If you'll excuse me, I have to keep an eye on Iteos. Impa's cut him off."

Sheik had nodded, not wanting to know what that arsehole had gotten up to. He had a feeling it involved Erd, given how protective Ard had been of him the past few days, refusing to leave his twin's side. If he had, Sheik was quite sure Ard would have been added to the pile. That had been an awkward moment, trying to get out of Link's bed. The thing had broken, of course...

He shook his head, focusing on the pounding of the hammers. Hafthor had his back turned by one of the tables by the wall, fiddling with something. He turned around just as Sheik was about to clear his throat, suddenly feeling awkward.

"You...wanted to speak to me?" he shouted over the din of the workshop.

Hafthor gave him a careful smile and nodded. He raised an arm, which signalled the other smiths to stop hammering so that it was actually possible to hold a conversation. Dozens of hunters were at work, so the noise level was still high, but at least Sheik's head didn't explode every few seconds because of the anvils.

"Here," Hafthor said, carefully lifting what he'd been working on with two hands. It was a sword, sheathed in a deep-green scabbard. The wrappings around the grip and crosspiece were a deep purple, as was the belt. "It's finished."

Taking it, Sheik looked uncertainly at him. It was quite light, he noticed. "This is...?" he asked.

"Take a look," Hafthor said, being infuriatingly vague.

Drawing the blade, Sheik nearly gasped. It was like his drawings and sketches had come to life. The sword had a traditionally broad blade, tapering to point for stabbing. What made it stand out, however, were the pair of silver grooves emerging from the crosspiece, running along the edges on both sides, and meeting at the point. The light caught differently in the steel and silver, giving it a slightly green sheen where the reflections met.

"Give it a swing," Hafthor said, taking the scabbard from Sheik's unresisting hands and stepping back.

Sheik did so, performing the most basic movements and katas he knew with this sort of blade. It was still slightly heavier than a regular steel sword, but nowhere near the hefty weight that a purely silver sword offered. He found himself grinning as he finished the routine with a thrust into a sandbag by Hafthor's forge.

"So? What do you think?" Hafthor asked. "I tinkered with the amount of silver, trying to find a balance between weight and effectiveness..."

"It's perfect, Haf," Sheik said, running a finger along one of the grooves. "You followed my design to the letter."

"Wouldn't dare anything else," the giant Sheikah said with a chuckle. "After your last little explosion when I got a measurement wrong—"

"I did _not_ explode!" Sheik hissed. "And if you'd even bothered to _look_ at my drawings, then..." he trailed off, realising his anger at Hafthor had seemingly evaporated the moment he'd swung the blade. "It's...you've done good work, Hafthor. Thank you."

"Yeah, well, it's...it was a priority," Hafthor said awkwardly, handing back the scabbard. "I'd like you to show it to Impa, convince her to make it standard-issue. Won't be hard, I think, after putting it to the test." He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Look, Sheik...I wanted to apologise."

"For what?" Sheik said, blinking.

"For the way I treated your...friend," he paused, unsure of what to call Link, or what was appropriate, presumably. "I'll admit, I'm still sceptical towards what's happening...but that doesn't invalidate what he's done so far. I won't take my eyes off him completely, just in case, but...I won't advocate for... _that_ anymore." He shrugged, not comfortable with apologies, apparently. Reno would probably motivate him better. "I've spoken with Ayla, as well, and she agrees...though she won't actually say it."

Sheik sighed, unsure of where to look. "Well, Haf...that was...quite possibly the most half-arsed apology I've heard."

Haf chuckled. "Heh, yeah, well, first time I've had to apologise for something like this, so...better luck next time?"

"I can only hope there won't _be_ a next time..."

"True, true..."

"And I'm not the one you should be apologising to," Sheik said, giving him a firm stare. "You can apologise to _him_."

"I will, later," Haf promised. "Just...need to prepare myself for it, you know?"

"He hasn't changed, Haf. Not by much. He won't...I don't know, he won't howl at you, or anything like that."

Haf grinned. "Good to know," he said. "Let me know when he feels comfortable taking visitors, and I'll stop by and...say hello, I suppose."

"He'll be happy for that, I think," Sheik said, giving him a genuine smile as he turned to leave. "Oh, and Haf?" He lifted the sheathed sword in a salute. "This is great work—I'll definitely ask Impa to consider it."

* * *

"You were lucky."

Tira snorted. "Were I lucky, it wouldn't have hit me at all."

Zelda pulled back, glaring. "The bullet could easily have struck something vital, instead of just grazing your arm." She gave the admittedly small cut a slightly rougher swab with the alcohol, making the older woman hiss. "Lucky," the princess emphasised.

"You're a cruel woman, Your Grace," Tira said, shaking her head. "And here I was thinking we were getting along so well." She sighed dramatically, turning her head away. "Hurt! I am hurt!"

Zelda laughed, suddenly happy that Kaura had left her to handle the cleaning of Tira's injury on her own. She'd tolerate no such merriment in her infirmary, the princess suspected. Shaking her head, she finished cleaning the wound and wrapped it with clean bandages. "Make sure not to get it wet," she told the hunter firmly.

"I'll try," she replied, shrugging.

"How did this happen, anyway?"

"Just an accident," Tira said casually. "We were training at the firing range, and someone's bullet fragmented when it struck metal instead of straw. Was probably a bad casting job, anyway. No one else got hit, but this one little piece of it grazed me. Put a hole in my favourite shirt, too."

"Poor thing," Zelda cooed. "I'm sure it can be saved."

"I have no doubt," Tira said, rolling down the arm of her current, non-damaged shirt. "I'll have to ask Kafei, though, since I can't sew for shit." She paused. "Pardon my tongue...unless...?"

It was amazing how quickly the dark-skinned hunter could switch from serious to flirtatious in the fraction of a second, and reduce Zelda to a blushing mess. She wasn't _that_ innocent, damn it! She'd witnessed what her party guests got up to in dark corners, asked Sheik for stories from the Temple, even fished for details of his current dalliance with Link...so why was a woman flirting with her having such an effect?

Though...maybe it wasn't the flirting itself, but how it...intrigued her?

"I doubt your tongue could do anything requiring pardon," she replied with a sniff as she put the medical supplies away, happy it gave her an opportunity to turn away, hiding her red face.

What am I even saying? she wondered.

Tira was silent for a moment, seemingly shocked, before she laughed. "True, it receives praise more than anything else," she countered. "But then, a practical demonstration is always more...interesting?"

Zelda turned back to her, deciding to find something out. "May I ask you a question, Tira?"

"Of course."

"How many women have you slept with?"

Tira frowned. "That's a little personal, isn't it?"

"You just asked if I wanted a practical demonstration of your tongue," Zelda said in a deadpan. "I think the time for playing the 'personal' card has passed. Now answer the question, please."

Tira thought for a moment. "Oh...three, I'd say."

Zelda leaned closer. "Would you like to make that four?"

It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, which seemed to last for eternity, as the two stared at each other. Zelda's face felt like it was on fire—she was certain you could fry an egg on it. Tira's eyes had widened comically to the point Zelda feared they'd actually pop out of her skull, mouth falling slightly open.

"Did...did you just...?" Tira asked.

Zelda hung her head. "I was only...curious if you meant it..." she said, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I—"

A finger on her chin gently lifted Zelda's head until she was looking at Tira again, who had replaced her carefree grin from before with a tiny smile that looked far more genuine.

"I did mean it," Tira said, and brought their lips together.

* * *

"Still stuck in bed, huh?"

Kiro was, in Link's opinion, annoyingly chipper. He couldn't complain, though, since he'd taken the time to come visit Link in his room...or cell, as it had once been. He was still lying in the broken remains of his bed, not having much energy for anything else. He'd paced around the room a few times, but that had exhausted him quickly.

Link nodded in response to the question, giving an annoyed huff and pointing at the chit, which was on his desk. Kiro handed it to him awkwardly, trying not to drop the wrapped bundle in his arms.

 _ **Tired enough to sleep for a week straight,**_ Link wrote on the chit, showing to Kiro before erasing it and writing some more. _**Haven't seen you since the range.**_

Kiro shrugged. "I've been busy," he said matter-of-factly. "Besides, from what I've heard you haven't been in much of a condition to talk...or, heh, write anyway." He set the bundle down on the desk, taking a moment to study Link a little closer. "The way the others were describing it, I was expecting you to be covered in fur, claws, and teeth by now. Love the new eyes, by the way."

Link chuckled silently. The others had been walking on glass around him in regards to the...well, mutations, as Kaura had begun to refer to them as. Kiro...now Kiro just waltzed straight through and immediately pointed it out. That was...refreshing, and he found his mood improving more and more with every moment. He wrote:

_**It's nice to be able to see in the dark, like you. Still getting used to the teeth, though.** _

"Let me see?" Kiro asked, and Link laughed silently again, opening his mouth to reveal the annoyingly sharp set of teeth he'd been so thoughtfully provided by the monster, the Alpha as they called it. "That's quite a set of gnashers, that is," the Sheikah said with an impressed whistle. "Tried them out yet?"

Link gave him a look.

_**On what?** _

"Anything?" Kiro suggested. "Anyone?"

_**That's not funny.** _

"I beg to differ," he said, chuckling. "Anyway, I came here to say hello and see how you were doing, and for one more thing."

_**What's that?** _

"This," Kiro said and headed for the desk, unwrapping the bundle to reveal a crossbow-like object...though it looked like it had a complicated mechanism attached to the underside, brass glinting in the lamplight. Kiro lifted it and deposited it in Link's lap, looking excited. "Took me weeks, but I finally finished it!"

Link inspected it. From what he could see, the mechanism pulled the drawstring with the use of cogwheels and pulleys. There was a big, empty compartment by the trigger, which he assumed was for...something? He gave Kiro a curious look, and the Sheikah smiled.

"That, my dear brother, is what is known as a Zukov, named after its creator. It is, essentially, an automatically cocking and loading crossbow, used by the old hunters for their ranged combat needs before the invention of pistols and rifles...or, at least, before they become _useful_ instead of liable to explode in your face." He cleared his throat. "But I digress—these things went out of fashion a...number of years ago, and the few working examples we had left were either stolen or lost over time."

Link shifted the weapon in his hands, testing its weight as he listened.

"When you told me of your aversion to gunpowder, the reason for which I will not ask, I decided to see if we had any of these lying around, or enough parts to fix one. You're too natural a shot to rely on melee weapons in the thick of it, so I had to find something that doesn't use powder to function."

Link, with some effort due to the wood-and-brass monstrosity in his lap, managed to write,

_**How does it work?** _

"Clockwork, basically, which means you have to keep it wound, and perform a horrendous amount of maintenance for every time you use it...but I think that's an inconvenience you're willing to work with if it means you don't have to use firearms anymore, hm?" At Link's nod, he grinned. "I figured as much. Quarrels are currently under production and will be ready soon, and I'm also putting together a manual on how the Zukov works, how to maintain it, and how to fix it when it inevitably breaks due to the horribly complicated mechanism. I suggest memorising _that_ , just so you don't end up as its creator. Oh, and point it _away_ from you when trying to remove jammed quarrels. Zukov forgot that very cardinal rule, the poor bugger."

Link couldn't contain his smile, despite the morbidity of that comment. He hadn't expected this. At best, he'd assumed he'd be ridiculed by every other hunter for not using powder weapons, but Kiro...this was...

"Hey, hey, no need for accolades or anything like that," Kiro said with a laugh. "Only took me an immeasurable amount of hours to find enough pieces to put together a working example, but..."

_**Thank you, Kiro. Truly. I don't know what to say.** _

"You don't need to say anything, I'm sure you'd do the same for me," Kiro told him. "Brothers have to look out for each other, you know?"

Link paused, wrinkling his brow. He'd said that before, too.

_**Brothers?** _

Kiro looked around, as if expecting someone to be listening in, before lowering his voice. "It's not official yet, but as far as me and several others are concerned, you're one of us, and that makes you a brother. We're just waiting for Impa to make an announcement, really, and I think that'll happen as soon as she comes to see you...though that might take some time still—she's quite stressed at the moment."

_**I'm sor** _

Kiro wouldn't let him finish, taking the chit away from him. "None of that—this isn't your fault. She just needs a little time, and a proper meeting with you when you're a little more energetic...and she'll come around. Just make sure to point out that Sheik loves you, and she'll have no choice but to accept you." Kiro cackled. "Just don't mention you're fucking him, or you'll give her a stroke...or she'll kill you. It's either-or, really."

Link glared at him, which was ruined somewhat by his blush, and grabbed his chit back.

_**You suck at motivation, you know that?** _

Kiro looked perfectly innocent. "There's a reason I'm a sharpshooter, you know. You don't want me at your shoulder—you want me at the back. Preferably a few hundred yards behind the line."

_**Please leave.** _

* * *

It was the middle of the night when one of the mayor's watchmen came to fetch Ascal. The time didn't bother him—sleep was hardly his biggest requirement, and he'd been reading to make the time pass faster, anyway. Art, on the other hand, looked tired and grumpy, having been fetched from his own room first.

"The mayor wants to see you," the watchman said, turning and expecting them to follow her. She led them to Dane's office, knocking on the door before ushering them inside.

Dane looked tired, slumped behind his desk, sword within reach as usual. He regarded them both with angry eyes, frowning. "Hope I didn't wake you, gentlemen."

"Not at all, sir," Ascal replied smoothly. "May I ask why you wished to speak with us?"

"Like you don't already know," Dane grunted. "I have made my decision in regards to our...mutual friends, and what to do about the possible infection."

"And that is?" Ascal asked, wishing the man would just get on with it. He already knew what the decision would be. Keeping him on the edge was pointless.

"I'm sending the runners to the outposts now," Dane said. "By dawn two days from now, my entire force will be assembled and ready to march to the Studio. There, we will negotiate with Impa and try to solve this _peacefully_. Understand?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Good." Dane looked older than when they'd first arrived in Whiteridge. The decision was plaguing him, putting him under a lot of stress. And he blamed Ascal for it, naturally, because he'd brought this issue to Dane's door. "I know Impa. I respect her. I am certain, if we can explain it thoroughly, she will understand the need to verify the truth. You will remain out of sight until she agrees to bring out her nephew and his companion. If possible, we will also ask them to hand over the girl, so we can keep her safe here until the spring thaw."

"But, I thought we could—"Ascal began.

"No," Dane said firmly. "I will not have Impa fortify the place the moment she spots you, or you tell her who you are. No, you will only show yourself when I tell you to. Those are my terms; do you agree?"

Ascal made himself look conflicted, but finally reluctantly nodded. "Very well, sir. We will do it your way. With luck, things will indeed end peacefully. We didn't come all this way to bring back bodies, after all."

"I can only pray Impa will be reasonable," Dane said. "Now get out. I'd like to be alone."

"Of course, sir," Ascal said, bowing slightly along with Art. "And I thank you again for the help. Your efforts will _not_ go unnoticed by Master Terra."

"Tell me that once we're finished."

They were trusted enough to be able to head back to their rooms without an escort. Ascal hummed quietly to himself, a melody he'd long since forgotten the origin of. Art's face was impassive, almost bored, really. When they reached their doors, Ascal looked at him.

"Tell me something, Gold," he said, using Art's false name.

"Hm?"

"Do you think I'm going too far with this?"

Art considered the question for a moment, and then gave a non-committal shake of his head. "No point thinking about it. Too late to stop now."

Ascal nodded, expecting no less but such a succinct answer from his stalwart companion and, dare he say it, friend. "I believe you are right. Well, we had better prepare ourselves, then. Things are going to get lively around here in two days. Have a good night, Art."

"You too, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _God damn it_ , Ascal!


	52. The Name

In her long career of hunting, Impa had never been as surprised, shocked, or confused as she'd been in the weeks since Link's encounter with the Alpha. This was the sort of event that changed things forever, the kind that the old hunters spoke of with reverence and awe in their journals and memoirs. Impa had taken a lot of comfort and inspiration from those tomes, happy that so many answers could be found in them.

They never mentioned the annoyance and frustration involved with these events, and the sheer amount of headaches they were prone to cause whoever was unfortunate enough to be in charge at the time. So, her admiration of the old hunters had been quelled quite a bit by the fact they were clearly a bunch of liars who cared too much about their legacy than to admit that, half the time, they had not a fucking clue what they were doing...much like Impa didn't have a clue right now.

She'd definitely like to have a _long_ talk with Ivan about his unwillingness to investigate the gigantic lycanthrope he had encountered in his youth, which she was convinced had been another Alpha. To think, if he or any of her predecessors had actually started _looking_ for the root cause of the problem, rather than just deal with the symptoms that were the "normal" lycans, like Bob. Much suffering and death could have been prevented that way...

"I'm fixing your mistake, Ivan," she muttered, knocking the back of her head against the stone wall of the dungeon. "If I'm right about this, we might just have a chance..."

She'd already sent ravens to as many workshops as possible, warning them about this new development. All theories, of course, but if Alphas were indeed the origin of lycanthrope infection, then every hunter had to be on the lookout for them, and eliminate them all. She'd almost considered declaring a Grand Hunt...but they still knew too little about the beast in question to mount efficient raids.

No, they had to investigate, discover the Alphas behavioural patterns, find out where they made their dens, if there were requirements they had to fulfil...as well as their origins. Inducing random mutations in humans, Hylians, and other humanoids was too unreliable in terms of multiplying, so clearly the things had to be breed somehow—but when? How often? Did they have litters? Did the damn things run in packs?

She knocked her head into the wall again. Too many questions, too few answers. The other masters and clan leaders would bombard her with requests for more information, demanding to know why she would spring such an ill-researched theory upon them, and the only reason she had was the lack of time...and, possibly, her own fear.

In the cell in front of her, Bob gave a plaintive whimper, staring at her. She nodded at him. "I know," she muttered. "I'm scared too."

Above, the door to the dungeon opened on creaky hinges, and a single set of footsteps came down the stairs. They had a lantern, filling the room with pale, yellow light. She didn't need to ask who it was; she recognised that gait. She gave her nephew a nod as he entered the cellblock. He had a sword on his back—not unusual in itself, but it seemed to be a traditional broadsword-type, rather than the slender sort the Sheikah were known for.

"I've been looking for you," Sheik said in greeting. "What are you doing down here?"

"Experimenting," Impa said, not showing her surprise at Sheik speaking to her. He hadn't for weeks. Granted, their last few conversations had _not_ gone well, and after Link's injury...well...she couldn't really blame him, after what she'd advocated. "What can I do for you?"

"Hafthor has finished the prototype of one of my designs," Sheik explained, setting the lantern on the floor and drawing the sword. Impa could immediately see what was unusual about its blade. "Silver grooves, to replace solid silver blades. Much lighter, and less prone to damage since the edges are steel." He held it out to her, handle first.

Impa tried not to make her fatigue show as she stood up, gripping her cane a little tighter than normal. She'd barely slept lately, her mind refusing to settle. There was too much to do, too many factors to consider, too many unruly hunters going crazy from being cooped up in this place to rein in...

Accepting the blade, she was surprised at the weight. Silver was heavy, and she'd expected the sword to be as well, even with Sheik's improvements. She gave it a few swings, and ended with a thrust. "This is a fine sword," she said, looking at him. "And do you believe it will be as effective as a solid one?"

"Delivery method is the same," Sheik said. "I don't see why not. There'll be plenty of time to test it later, though. Hafthor wants to make it standard-issue, if it performs well."

She nodded. "If it proves as useful as a normal silver blade, consider it done." Handing the sword back to her nephew, she studied him closer. "Not your style, this blade. Decided to change it up?"

"It's not for me," Sheik said, carefully sheathing the sword and replacing it on his back. "I'm going to give it to Link, as a gift to celebrate his official induction as a hunter. I've spoken with the others, and they all agree. Link is one of us."

There was challenge in his eyes, and Impa couldn't find it in her to argue with him right now. Not that she could, even if she had the energy. Mana and Hafthor had spoken, and the idea of a debate with Kiro was, frankly, exhausting just to think about, so she simply nodded. "It is a good gift...though...how will he react to the silver?"

Sheik's eyes widened slightly. "I...don't know," he admitted. "I hadn't even considered that."

Impa chuckled. "None of us did, I think. We were too busy trying to find out what was happening to him. Now that we know a great deal more, though..."

"...chances are he will have as adverse a reaction as lycans," Sheik finished. "The Alpha did, according to Mana."

Impa shrugged. "Guess Kaura has another test to perform, then." She glanced at Bob's cell. "And I made a little discovery on my own."

Sheik looked at her, cocking his head. "And that is?"

"Observe," she told her nephew and pulled out a sweat- and blood-stained shirt from a leather sack. Bob's reaction was immediate, his head perking up, nostrils flaring as he sniffed deeply, growling slightly. Impa held the shirt out in front of her, and walked towards the cell...past the safety line. Sheik made a surprised sound, and made to stop her. "Don't move," she told him. "I'm perfectly safe."

As she got closer, Bob drew back, his ears angled back. He growled once more, but then began to whimper as Impa reached the bars. He drew back, curling into the corner of his cell, head kept low, his eyes never leaving the shirt.

"What are...what just happened?" Sheik asked.

"This is the shirt Link was wearing while recovering from his injury," Impa said. "To put it simply, it smells like him. And look how Bob feels about that."

Sheik observed the lycanthrope trying to meld into the floor beneath the shirt, whimpering and...presenting his neck? "He's afraid of it," Sheik said, eyes wide.

"Submissive," Impa corrected. "He had the same reaction to a piece of the Alpha's pelt. Which means that something about the Alpha and Link is triggering it—their scent." She looked at her nephew. "I have to admit, I am unsure of what to do with this information. If supports my theory that, to my horror, Link might be becoming an Alpha."

"And that means you have to kill him, right?" Sheik said, crossing his arms and glaring at her. If only he knew how much he looked like his father right then... "I won't let you."

"I wasn't expecting you to," Impa said. "Even though I technically don't need your permission." She pulled back from the cell and put the shirt back in the sack. Bob seemed to calm at that, reverting to his previous behaviour—that is, trying to kill anyone who came within reach of his claws. It was almost endearing, at this point. "But, since I am such a sentimental fool, I am willing to wait and see what will happen next before I decide what to do with him. For all we know, he might simply be taking on certain characteristics of an Alpha, rather than turning into one."

She adjusted her grip on her cane, and shrugged.

"Besides, it would be a shame to waste such an opportunity to learn about genetic mutation. The good doctor would probably have my head for it."

"So that's all he is to you?" Sheik asked bitterly. "A test subject? An experiment?"

It would certainly have made things easier. Impa _longed_ for the ability to consider Link just that...but as things were, she couldn't. He was a hunter—one of _hers_. He had saved the lives of her kin. Had proven himself more than capable of handling difficult situations, putting the safety of others before his own. He'd...he was dear to Sheik. As much as it put wrenches in the mechanisms of her plans for her nephew's future, she couldn't ignore that, either. If it hadn't been for the attack, Impa could easily have imagined Link thriving among them, possibly even taking a leadership position...

"If you believe that's what I think of him, Sheik, then our relationship is in direr straits than I had believed," she finally said, giving him a weak smile. "No, he is not an experiment to me. He is one of us, and I'll gladly admit that. However, he has also been stricken with a condition none of us have ever seen before...and we'd be fools to let an opportunity to learn from it slip through our hands."

"And what does that mean?" Sheik demanded to know. "What are you going to do to him?"

"I don't intend to do anything but ask him questions, perhaps ask for a little blood now and then. I haven't mentioned his name in my letters, and as you and group keep your mouths shut, his identity will remain a secret. The others still believe that he is simply recovering from a normal injury—I intend to keep it that way." She hardened her gaze. "That is my decision as the leader of this workshop. Do you disagree?"

Sheik seemed surprised at her willingness to cooperate, hesitating. "I...no, I suppose not. Will he continue to be confined to his cell?"

"For the time being, yes," Impa said, nodding. "He still needs to recover, and I would like to know exactly where he is until we're absolutely confident he is still himself and _will remain_ so. For his own safety, and that of everyone else."

Sheik seemed, if not satisfied, then at least mollified. "All right," he said.

They spent a long moment looking at each other. "Was there something else I could help you with, nephew?" she asked.

"I just...thank you, for letting him move into a room of his own," Sheik said slowly, as if every word was a pain to say. Impa could sympathise. She had never been good at expressing begrudging gratitude either. "The infirmary was bothering him."

"I think it was the chains more than anything, but...well, he needed some space." Impa shifted uncomfortably. This was becoming a little too awkward, even for her taste. On the other hand, it presented a good opportunity for another awkward talk she had hoped to put off (hopefully forever), but she could get it out of the way. She wasn't sure if it was good or back luck, this. "I'm certain Kaura has already mentioned this, but seeing as you and Link are...intimate..."

Sheik flinched, suddenly unable to meet her eyes, and looking ready to bolt at any second.

Me too, nephew. Me too.

"What about...that?" he asked.

"If the infection spreads through saliva and bites...well...might be a good idea not to let him...you know..." she trailed off, cursing her thrice damned luck that it hadn't been she who died that night. She'd never wanted this damn job anyway! "...so..."

Sheik looked willing to eat his own gun, but nodded. "Duly noted," he said, strained. "May I go now?"

"You may," Impa said gratefully. "And if you don't mind, please leave a copy of the sword's schematic in my study. I'd like to look at it."

"As you wish."

She waited until the door had closed firmly behind Sheik before releasing the tension in her shoulders, sighing deeply and leaning against the wall. She glanced at Bob, still regarding her with murder in his eyes.

"You have no idea how good you have it, Robert," she told the lycan. "You don't have to deal with _this_ shit."

* * *

"Are you ready?"

Lor gave a shaky nod, focusing on the arms wrapped around his middle, on the warmth of Ard's solid chest against his back. The scientist hadn't even hesitated when he'd agreed to help with this, and Lor couldn't help but feel guilty about it. He and Ard had only been... _this_...for a few weeks, and to be asking for something so private so soon...he could only hope he could help Ard like this in return, somehow...

"This is a disinfectant," Ayla said, turning back to the two of them, a small toolset on the table in front of her. She poured some of the dark-green liquid onto a piece of cloth and began to gently wipe at his cheek. "Gotta make sure you don't get sick from this, y'know?" she said.

Lor winced as his skin began to burn the moment the liquid touched it. "What is it?" he asked. "Burns like hell..."

"A special mix the person who taught me came up with," the Gerudo said. "She was a master at this." She finished disinfecting his cheek and removed the cloth, replacing the bottle with an inkpot and several needles of varying thickness. She looked at his original tattoo for a moment, and finally selected one of the smaller needles. "Think we can get away with using this, since the tattoo isn't that large," she explained.

"Will it hurt?" Ard asked, voice uncharacteristically soft. It made the Gerudo pause, before smiling.

"Of course," she said. "I'll be depositing ink into his skin with a super-sharp needle, drop by drop. It takes time, and it'll hurt like hell. Why do you think you're even here?"

Ard grunted. "Just curious..."

"It'll be fine, Ard," Lor said, turning his head to look at him. "I just need you to hold me down, okay? Keep me grounded."

Lor was no stranger to pain—his treatment at the hand of Ascal's goons, and some of the rougher clients at the Temple, had given him a rather high threshold...but he was nervous about this. That tattoo had marred him for most of his life, marked him as a slave and a whore to everyone who knew what it meant. He wanted it gone, more than he had ever thought...and he wanted Ard to be there.

"That's so sweet my teeth are starting to rot," Ayla said, rolling her eyes. She showed him a piece of paper, on which she'd sketched Lor's original tattoo. "Now, this is what it looks like at the moment, yeah? My plan is to change it...like...so..." She made a few quick lines, expanding the original tattoo to resemble a line with a bulging diamond in one end. It was an effective concealment of the slave marking, and while Lor would always have ink on his cheek...this was better. "What do you think?" she asked.

"That'll...be great," Lor said.

"This is an older symbol the hunters don't really use anymore—though everyone is taught the meaning when they join. It's called the Ally's Sigil. It'll mark you as a friend, someone we can trust. Should you ask for our help, we will do everything in our power to assist you. There are other symbols, of course, but this one is the easiest to convert your original one into."

Lor smiled, liking how that sounded. "Thank you for this, Ayla."

"It's the least I could do," the Gerudo said, tapping his nose. Ard's chest rumbled with displeasure at that. "Oh shut it, you overgrown barn cat," she laughed. "I barely touched him."

Ard's hold on Lor tightened considerably. Lor almost giggled. He had never met someone with such a need for touch as Ard. Oh, he was certainly uncomfortable with it at first, when he was unsure of whether or not Lor was actually serious about his affection...but once he was...well, it was nearly constant. Their knees touching under the desk was enough, but he definitely seemed to relish it when he could hold Lor like this. It was different from what Lor was used to. It was...nice.

"So, does that sound good, Lor?" Ayla asked once more. "Remember, this is permanent."

"It sounds great, Ayla. Go ahead."

"Then I'll start," the Gerudo said. "Make yourselves comfortable—we'll be here for a few hours."

No problem, Lor thought, snuggling into Ard's chest.

* * *

_I guess this is my life now,_ Sheik thought as he woke up, once more, in a pile of warm, breathing bodies, his head resting on Link's chest.

Granted, the pile only consisted of Link, Zelda, Tao, and himself this time. Kaura had managed to avoid being dragged into it yet again, and Lor had spent the night with Ard after having his tattoo altered. Link had not been happy about the missing member of the pile, but had allowed it after being told _why_ Lor wasn't there. Sheik was happy for him—Lor deserved it.

It _was_ warm, and surprisingly comfortable. The bed itself was broken, but Link had requested enough pillows and blankets to make up for the ruined frame. Sheik had been surprised at Impa's compliance with the request, but he chalked that up to the fact that she, like the others, was trying her best to live with the complicated situation they'd ended up in.

 _Could be worse,_ he thought to himself, remembering cold and wet nights spent outdoors because he was too far from an inn...or because the inn wouldn't serve his kind. _I'll take warm, dry, and cramped over cold, wet, and alone any day._

Link's chest vibrated as a small, trilling sound emerged from the Hylian's lips, making Link turn his head. Their eyes met in the darkness, and they exchanged sleepy smiles.

"Good morning," Sheik whispered. He'd kiss Link, but Zelda's weight on his legs made it difficult to move closer without waking her, so settled for nuzzling against Link's chest instead. "Sleep well?"

Link nodded, and made two signs with his free hand.

**Good. Rock.**

**Like a rock.**

"Glad to hear it," Sheik said, resuming his earlier position. He had no intention of getting up anytime soon—he was too comfortable. Honestly, he wasn't very awake to begin with. His head felt syrupy, like he was still balancing on the edge between the worlds of sleep and wakefulness.

Lor had once told him that he had two weaknesses—thinking too much, and thinking too little. Sheik would overthink simple problems to the point where they went from gentle hills to steep mountains. On more complicated issues, he'd barely think at all, and simply rush headlong into the trouble _that_ created.

Sheik found it hard to disagree with that assessment. He strove to keep himself level-headed, but that wasn't always easy...nor was keeping his mouth shut. That problem doubled in severity when he was tired.

So it was only natural to have something he'd planned to tell Link under carefully controlled conditions, to ensure that the news went over as well as possible and giving him enough of a chance to explain, simply plop out of him now, of all times, and in the least considered way possible.

"You know," he mumbled, "Sheik isn't actually my name."

He realised his mistake just as he felt Link tense beneath him, and he quickly looked up at his face, finding a piercing pair of grey eyes boring into his own, silently demanding an elaboration. To his credit, Link didn't seem angry. More confused. That trilling sound, just about the only way he had left of vocalising, played again, shifting upwards towards the end in a questioning tone.

"Er..." he said. "That...wasn't meant to come out now...heh...me and my big mouth..."

Link waited patiently, his piercing gaze still on him.

Sheik wished Lor was there, so the human could smack him over the head and call him an idiot. "So...I wished to tell you this under better circumstances, but...do you remember when you told me about your sister?"

Link nodded, frowning.

"I wanted to tell you back then, but couldn't...that we had more in common than I thought," Sheik said, tracing his finger up and down Link's arms. It was trapped under Tao, but Sheik had no doubt Link could toss them all aside if he was truly enraged. "You see...I had a sister too, once. A twin."

Another trill. A sad sound.

"She was older than me by an hour or so," Sheik continued, finding it very difficult to stop talking now that he'd started. "Always called me a slowpoke for it, when we were training. And she was right, actually—I could never keep up with her." He shifted until his back was mostly to Link, at which point the Hylian seemingly wrapped himself around him, somehow without disturbing the others. "And before you ask, no, her name wasn't Sheik either," he continued. "Sheik is less a name, and more like a title, bestowed upon a member of the clan that shows the most promise, regardless of age. It's supposed to remind them that they're supposed to represent the ideal Sheikah, a paragon, become an inspiration to the rest of our people."

He swallowed, wishing he could stop the story at this point, before...but no, he couldn't. Link deserved to hear it.

"Our great-great-uncle, before he died, saw the potential in her, and named her Sheik." He chuckled. "I was so jealous; what did she have that I didn't? She showed me that again and again in the sparring rings, during training...anything I could do, she could always do better. She was faster than me, stronger than me, she mastered new movements within hours, while it would take me days or weeks...compared to her, I felt like a failure."

The all-too-familiar feelings of frustration, anger, and sorrow began to well up within him again. He'd kept them away for so long, but they still felt as familiar as before.

"I don't think I hated her, but I absolutely resented her for being so much better than me. It didn't make sense—we were _twins_. We should have been the same...but no..."

He felt one of Link's fingers trace his cheek, surprised to see it come away wet. When had he started crying?

"But I told myself it didn't matter. I'd show them all I could be just as good, if not better than her. I never did manage to upstage her, of course, but...I had a goal, at least. My parents were proud of that, I think, even if they didn't like that we'd made a competition out of it. My sister was all-too-happy that I wasn't giving up, even though entire motivation was to beat her at something, anything."

He drew a shuddering breath.

"When we were eight, we left the Studio, heading to Hyrule. There were five of us—Mother, Father, Impa, and my sister and I. We were to be presented to King Rhys, Zelda's father, to garner closer relations. Sheikah were still periodically employed as bodyguards for the Royal Family back then, and...and Sheik was considered to be Zelda's. We didn't even reach Termina."

He closed his eyes. He could still smell the burning buildings, the screams...

"A local civil war, between two factions that don't even exist anymore, and we walked right into it. The townspeople didn't trust Sheikah, and wouldn't let us seek shelter. Our presence was discovered by both sides, each of whom believed we'd been hired by the other to kill the leaders. So they hunted _us_ down, instead. Mother and Father...they fought so hard, to protect us...but they found Sheik first. She was strong, and fast...but not _enough_..." his breath hitched, and Link held him tighter.

Dimly, he was aware that Tao and Zelda had woken up as well, and were gently touching his arm and leg, offering comfort, which only made him cry harder.

"It all happened so fast, I...I barely remember it. Mother told Impa to take me and leave, begged her to get me out alive...she took a mace to her knee, but still carried me out of there...I think she knocked me out, because the next I knew, we were back in the mountains, and she wouldn't speak to me for a whole day, and...then told me they were _gone_..."

He couldn't speak for a minute, choking on his words every time he tried to. The others remained silent, probably unsure of what to do. "I...I don't remember much of the following weeks, but I do remember telling Impa to call me Sheik when got back to the Studio. Demanded it. She didn't argue."

Sheik turned to look at them, trying to muster a smile only one of the three could see.

"I don't even remember _why_ I wanted the name, only that I did— _so much_. I guess Impa thought it would be cruel to deny me that, and as the new clan leader it was her decision, so...it stuck..." Sheik turned back to face Link. "I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, but..."

Link huffed and kissed his forehead. That only made the tears flow anew.

 _Look at me,_ he thought. _A pathetic mess over something I thought I'd left behind years ago...bloody hell, sister, I bet you're having a good laugh, wherever you are._

The weight over his legs shifted, and Zelda's uncertain voice spoke, "I don't care what your name is—you're still my little brother, blood or not."

Tao tapped Sheik's knee twice, presumably a sign of his support.

"Thank you," he sighed. His chest felt lighter than it had in months...all because he had told them this? _Overthinking...Lor, you know me better than I do._

"That being said," Zelda continued, "because you've now peaked my damn curiosity...what _was_ your name?"

An insistent poking at his knee and an expectant look from Link proved they were as curious as she. Endearing, really.

Sheik chuckled, wiping at his wet cheeks. "I don't know, shouldn't I keep it mysterious a little longer?"

Zelda growled. "Sheik, I swear to the Goddesses, if you don't tell me—"

She was interrupted by the loud tolling of the ancient warning bells echoing through the halls, so loud they even penetrated the stone walls of the cells. Sheik stiffened, and when he heard voices begin to shout, their words muffled and garbled by the walls, he knew it was no drill. He nearly threw himself out of the pile, to the others' protest, and began getting dressed.

"What's happening?" Zelda asked, fumbling in the dark for matches and a candle.

"Warning bells," Sheik explained quickly, noting Link's agitated look as he climbed out of bed, swaying slightly on his feet. "Link, lie back down! I'll go see what it's about!" Before he even reached the door, someone began to knock on the other side. "Open it, Kafei!" he yelled, knowing his cousin was the guard assigned for the night.

The external locks were quickly opened as Sheik undid the internal ones, and the door swung open, revealing a harried-looking Kafei and Mana, whose face was like stone.

"What's going on?" Sheik asked, hoping he didn't look like too much of a mess.

"Get dressed, cousin," Kafei said. "And prepare your weapons."

"Mana?"

The elder Sheikah glanced behind Sheik. Zelda had lit a candle, and the others were trying to make sense of what was happening. She frowned. "An army is approaching the Studio, child," she said. "Whiteridge has mobilised against us."


	53. The Shot

"As annoyed as I am to see them, I have to admit, Dane has done a good job with his men," Kafei said, leaning against a parapet and watching the army of watchmen from Whiteridge assembling a good distance away from the Studio's walls. Close enough to appear threatening, but far enough to signal that no attack was forthcoming just yet. Kafei sighed, breath fogging in the cold morning air. The sun was just beginning to creep over the mountains, light catching on the watchmen's plate armour and bayonets, hundreds of little needles poking out of the snow in the distance.

"And in such short time, too," Elenwe agreed, fingering the edge of her empty sleeve absentmindedly. "But then...why are they here? Last I recall, we didn't have any outstanding issues with Whiteridge."

"We don't," Impa said, joining them on the parapet, looking impeccable in her finest hunting gear. The metal buckles were polished to a sheen, and the leather coat clean and free of blemishes. Even her cane had been given a good shine. She looked as formidable as a Master Hunter should, and Kafei knew it was all meant to intimidate Dane...or whoever had initiated this fledgling siege. "Which is why I am quite vexed with Dane at the moment. We had an agreement." She gave Kafei a thoughtful look. He blanched.

"Don't look at me," he said, offended. "I didn't do anything!"

Impa raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I seem to remember you having quite a row with Dane's son the last time you went there—"

"That little shit had it coming, and I regret nothing," Kafei muttered. "But no, I haven't done anything _lately_. Haven't set foot in that town in at least a year."

Impa nodded, seemingly satisfied. "If you say so," she said, looking to Elenwe. "You'll vouch for that?"

Elenwe nodded. "He's been a good boy."

"Excellent."

Kafei wondered how much it would hurt to hurl himself off the parapet, but was brought back by some shouting coming from the direction of Whiteridge's men. A man was approaching the gates on foot, arms held out wide to prove himself unarmed. "That'll be Dane, then," he muttered.

"At least he's willing to talk about...whatever this is," Impa said. She glanced down the wall, spotting a certain hat bobbing among the other hunters who were observing the assembled army. "Kiro!"

"Yes, master?" he asked, coming up to them, his rifle slung over his shoulder. The sun's rays caught on the telescopic lens, causing purple reflections in the snow.

"I need you up in the crow's nest," Impa said, referring to the highest point of the main keep—a small room with a window directly overlooking the gates and drawbridge. The best vantage point, and designated sniper's nest. "Rifle loaded, but you are not to fire unless I give the signal, understood?"

"Yes, master," Kiro repeated, looking hesitant. "We're...fighting them?"

"Not yet," Impa replied. "But I'll be damned if I don't prepare for a battle when I've got the makings of one just outside my walls. Now, off you go."

Kiro gave a firm nod and scurried away, the brim of his hat barely missing Impa's nose when he turned around.

"Is everyone here?" Impa continued, looking back at Kafei.

"Mostly," Kafei said, gesturing to the hunters on the walls and down in the courtyard. "We've sequestered the civilians to the main hall to keep them out of harm's way, and Hafthor's hauling up extra powder and ammunition from the stores, as you ordered."

"Good. They may outnumber us, but these walls will be all the protection we need." She patted the cracked stone fondly. "Dane's men will break themselves on these walls, and all we'll have to do is take pot-shots at them until they give up and go home."

"I'm glad you have confidence in our defences," Kafei said carefully, "but perhaps we should hear what Dane has to say before we assume that shooting is about to start?"

Impa blinked. "I always assume shooting is about to start, cousin," she said. "But yes, I will indeed listen to what the old man wants. Alone," she added when Kafei opened his mouth, to offer to go with her. "You remember the plan, yes?"

Kafei scowled. "Of course I do, but—"

"That's all I wanted to hear," she said, stalking away. "Keep the door open behind me, but the gates remain sealed."

Kafei and Elenwe watched her go. He felt uneasy. An unprovoked mobilisation like this...it couldn't be anything good. And he _certainly_ didn't like the idea of letting Impa go out there on her own, but he didn't dare imagine what she'd do to him if he disobeyed her. So he remained still, glaring at her back as she headed for the gates.

"What did she mean?" Elenwe asked. "What plan?"

He gave his wife a grim smile. "One that will never be executed, the gods willing."

* * *

Sheik tried to get Impa's attention as she marched past his position on the wall, but she only shook her head at him, mouthing _later_. She would order him off the damn thing, but he'd refuse. At least he was near the gun tower. As much frustration as he caused her, she did not want her errant nephew anywhere near the gates or in plain view. Had it been up to her, he'd be in the main hall with the princess and other non-hunters, but that'd set a poor example, wouldn't it? Plus, he'd be absolutely furious with her, and while that was not an unusual occurrence, she was not in the mood to handle a tantrum right now.

The smaller gate door was opened for her by Reno. They exchanged nods, and Impa stepped out from the protective walls of her fortress, and onto the drawbridge. Dane was still approaching, albeit slowly. She walked to the end of the drawbridge and stopped, marking an invisible line. Not one step further than this, she signalled.

The river beneath the drawbridge had frozen. She wished it hadn't. It'd make it easier for the attackers to reach the walls.

The snow crunched beneath Dane's boots as he came closer, finally stopping a respectable five paces away from the drawbridge. He looked tired, conflicted. Impa frowned. While they'd never found themselves in a position like this before, she'd expected him to look more...confident? Like he usually did whenever they were forced to negotiate. He was about as happy about this as she was, then. That was good. That meant a peaceful solution could still be found.

"Impa," Dane said, giving a slight bow. More respect. He'd always been a gentleman, like that. Believed in the rules, as it were. "Good morning."

"Dane," she replied, inclining her head. "Looks to be a beautiful one," she continued. "Though I cannot help but feel that it is slightly marred by the appearance of an army on my doorstep. Your army, to be exact. I certainly hope you're about to tell me why this is."

Dane sighed. "It is a long story, and not one I relish to tell. So I will simply cut to the chase.

"Please do." No-nonsense. She liked that.

"We strongly believe that an infection has come to rest within your walls," Dane said, straightening his back and looking directly into her eyes. "A lycanthrope-related infection, that is."

Impa forced herself to remain impassive, to have no reaction. How had they found out? Who had talked? And about _what_? Was it just Bob, or had news of Link's accident somehow been leaked to the town? And just what was Dane intending to do about it?

"Lycanthropes?" she asked, sounding bored. "In my fortress?" She gave a shrug. "Dane, I realised we are growing old, but surely you remember that I, and almost everyone within those walls, hunt those things for a living. I'm quite sure we'd discover and handle those on our own, were such a thing even possible."

Dane chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, that fact has not escaped me," he said. "But I am not speaking of proper lycanthropes...at least, not yet. A pair of your hunters are carrying the infection, and they need to be dealt with before they spread to the rest of you."

Impa's train of thought, which was hard at work coming up with stories and lies to convince Dane that neither Bob nor Link even existed, came to a grinding halt. What on earth was he talking about? Infection? Two?

"I have also been informed that there is a hostage, kept here against her will," Dane continued. "A Hylian noble, daughter of a great house."

So, the princess was involved, then. But in what way? The idea that Zelda had called Whiteridge for help was beyond ridiculous, so she batted that away immediately. She'd certainly seemed...happy, here. Or excited. Either or, really. Even if things were a bit tense between the two of them right now, Impa had no doubt Zelda had no part in this. Which left the question...who the hell had told Dane about this?

"I'm afraid whoever's been feeding you information is quite off their rocker, Dane," Impa said, giving him an easy smile. "There are no Hylian nobles here, hostages or otherwise, and as for infected hunters...well, we do regular checks, and we would have discovered something like that immediately. And even if some of us were infected...we'd have dealt with it ourselves. I'm afraid you marched your army out here for no reason. I am sorry you wasted your time, but—"

"Impa, I would not come out here unless I had a legitimate worry about this," Dane said, voice as sincere and firm as she'd ever heard it. "And right now? You are lying through your teeth. I've known you long enough to tell when you're bullshitting someone."

"Dane—"

"I know you're not willing to give up your own nephew and his partner, but this is for the good of us all. I will help return the girl to her family, and convince them not to take any action against the rest of you. We've had our differences, yes, but I know how important the hunters are. I am only happy to help—"

"I don't know where you're getting your...intelligence, Dane," Impa interrupted him. "But it is in no way accurate, and right now you are wasting _my_ time with baseless accusations. It is wearing my patience thin." She glared at him before glancing behind him, at his army. Two figures that looked out of place were lingering at the edge of one of the units, seemingly watching them intently. One wore a top hat, of all things... "For old time's sake, I am willing to forgive and forget, but only if you take your army and march it home right now. I'd also suggest you send whoever's been feeding you these lies to me, so I can conduct a little investigation of my own."

Dane looked anything but ready to walk away. In fact, he a took a step closer, eyes narrowing, fists clenching and unclenching. "They massacred an entire _village_ , Impa," he hissed. "Blood bonds, clan bonds, brotherhood oaths...I understand all about the loyalty that comes with those, but you cannot protect murderers!"

Impa's eye twitched. "You would do well to watch your tongue, Dane," she growled. "You are accusing my nephew, my own blood, of murder. There are many things I am willing to stand, but _that_ is not one of them."

"I am only asking to speak with him," Dane said. "To hear his side of the story—"

"I intend to ask him; you can count on that."

"That is hardly fair," he pointed out. "You'll only protect him."

"That's because you _won't_ ," she countered. "I've heard promises like these before, human. 'Oh, we only wish to speak to him', 'We'll return them once we have the truth'...not once were they fulfilled. All they returned were the bodies, sometimes not even that. I am not losing more kin to that." She closed the distance between them, whispering. "Take your army, and _leave_ , Dane. Or I'll be returning _your_ bodies."

* * *

Kiro looked through the lens of his rifle, sights aimed directly at the mayor's forehead. Master Impa looked agitated. They both did, actually, and were standing very close, having a bitter conversation. Kiro had never been good at lip-reading, but he could clearly discern the threats being hurled back and forth between the two of them. He swallowed and checked his rifle for the tenth time. It was loaded. Ready to fire at any time.

He jumped when the door behind him opened, and he glared at the newcomer. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"Just wanted a better vantage point," Iteos said, raising his hands in surrender. "Do you mind?"

Kiro did mind. The crow's nest was a cramped little room, and he didn't need distractions right now, given how easy it'd be to miss when Impa was standing so close to the target. Plus, he really didn't like Iteos. He was about to tell him to fuck off when the argument below grew more intense, and he was forced to focus in case Impa gave the signal.

"Just...be quiet," he told the human, who nodded.

The human did stay quiet for a little while, and Kiro watched as the argument began to escalate, the two of them stepping closer and closer to each other. That worried Kiro greatly. Any closer now, and he'd lose his shot.

He heard metal sliding against metal just above him. A telescope, probably. "Whoa, Dane looks pissed."

"You should see Impa's face," Kiro muttered, wishing the man would shut up. A shadow fell over him, distracting him, and he looked up to yell at Iteos again. "Hey, what did I say? Get back!"

* * *

To his credit, Dane didn't back down. He took a deep breath, surely fighting an urge to draw his non-existent sword and strike at her for her threat. "He said you'd react like this, that you'd refuse to see the bigger picture. You're not the only protector of this valley, Impa. I am only doing this for my people."

"Who is this _he_ , Dane? So far all I've been hearing are second-hand rumours and whispers. For his sake, I hope he as proof, or he will regret ever having meddled in our affairs...and dragging you into it."

"He has asked to remain anonymous," Dane revealed. "But he is a hunter, like you. From another continent, I think. Spoke of a Master Terra, was sent by him."

She clenched her jaw. No, not true. Any of it. A Master Hunter's name was easy to obtain, if you knew a hunter. Master Terra ran the Atelier, the biggest workshop in the world. Of course this...accuser would be masquerading as one of his. Besides, Terra would never do this without contacting her directly...

"You've been fooled, Dane," she said, shaking her head. "Swayed by, what, a name and a title? Just to pick a fight with me...and of course he'd claim there are lycanthropes within our walls—he must have known about..."

She trailed off. Granted, the bit with the lycanthropes _was_ true, but not in the way Dane thought. And she'd left off the name. Dane hated being reminded of his late wife. Her death had been a personal failure of his, and a general failure of the hunters. They'd neglected their vigilance that winter, failed to realise a pack had appeared before it was too late...

Dane's shoulders shook, raw emotions threatening to break through, but he reined himself in quickly, giving her a flinty look. "You're...you're right," he said, taking another deep, shaky breath. "He knew exactly what to say, to make me react like this." He threw a glare in the direction of the two figures. "It appears I have an informant to speak to. I will bring him here—we can discuss it together."

Impa was about to give him a nod, to tell him that it was a good idea. Threats aside, she really didn't want a bloodbath on her hands. She opened her mouth to say as much, and then she saw it. A flash of light, coming from one of the figures. It was brief, only there for less than a second...but that was they needed.

Behind her, she heard the sharp crack of a rifle. A whine followed—the bullet whizzing past her head...and directly into Dane's. He looked surprised, eyes wide as he remained standing for a moment, blood dripping from the hole in his forehead...and then he fell backwards in the snow. A pool of blood quickly grew beneath his head.

Shocked, Impa looked back. A cloud of smoke was quickly dissipating in front of a window...in the highest tower of the keep. The crow's nest...how? She hadn't signalled Kiro to fire, so... She glanced back towards the army. The light...the light from the strange figures!

At her realisation, it seemed the world kicked back into action, and the army's reaction was immediate. Shouts of alarm, calls for attack could be heard. One voice in particular, breaking with youth, ordered a charge. And the army obeyed. Impa's body moved on her own. She turned around, ran back across the drawbridge, and through the open door, which Reno slammed shut behind, calling for the drawbridge to be raised.

All the while, her eyes were locked to the crow's nest. She grabbed Reno, forcing herself to look at him. "Get someone up there, right now! Find out what the hell happened!"

Reno nodded and went running himself, with Sheik on his heels (when had he climbed down from the wall). She didn't care. As long as he wasn't anywhere near the fighting, she was happy. Taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to the other hunters, who were uncertainly staring alternatively at her and the approaching army.

"Brothers, sisters," she called. "Prepare to defend yourselves!"

* * *

"What happened out there?!" Sheik asked, panting, as he and Reno raced up the stairs to the crow's nest. "She didn't give the signal to fire!"

"No," Reno agreed. "Someone _else_ did!" They screeched to a halt a few paces from the door to the crow's nest...which was wide open. "Kiro?" Reno called. "Are you all right? What happened?"

There was no answer, and Reno drew a pair of knives. Sheik drew his pistol. They rushed inside the room...and Sheik nearly dropped his weapon, his breath catching in his throat. The air in the crow's nest smelled of gunpowder, and blood. Kiro's throat had been slit from ear to ear, his face frozen in an expression of shock and pain, eyes staring unseeing up at the ceiling.

"Fuck," Reno muttered under his breath, crouching by the Sheikah's body. A small trail of blood led from his rifle by the window to the corner, where his body had been dragged, hat crumpled beneath him. Reno then inspected the rifle. "Still warm...definitely the shot that killed Dane."

Outside, screams and shots echoed through the valley as the men of Whiteridge attacked the Studio. A few were fired at the crow's nest, but they were nowhere close to hitting, smacking harmlessly into the ancient stonework.

Reno noticed that Sheik was still standing in the doorway, eyes locked on Kiro's body. "Sheik," he said, forcing the younger man to look at him. "Go to Impa, let her know what's happened."

"I..." Sheik was barely able to force that out.

"Kiro has been murdered, and someone used his weapon and position to kill Dane. We have a traitor within our walls," Reno said, looking back at Kiro, at the gaping wound in his throat. "And I'm pretty sure I know who it was."


	54. The Trail

Iteos huddled in his hiding spot, a small, sectioned-off piece of wall in one of the lower storage rooms, well-camouflaged by a large crate filled with iron ore. He'd found it by chance earlier that week, during his planning. It was almost amazing how perfectly everything had fallen into place, just like Ascal had said. The army had arrived practically on the dot, and Impa's reaction had been predicted to a tee, including having a sharpshooter in the crow's nest. Kiro had barely even struggled, too surprised by Iteos' wrist blade finding his throat.

He'd expected to feel guilty when he'd killed the Sheikah. True, Iteos hadn't gotten along with him, but not they had never actively antagonised each other like certain others, and...well, Iteos had just expected _something_ , not just the faint satisfaction of a job well-done, the sort he'd felt while he'd still been one of Mrs. Miggins' boys. He'd find it disconcerting, how easy it was to slip back into his old ways, but then he supposed he had never truly abandoned it. It was the hunter side of him that was the disguise, so easily shed. It fell away completely the moment he'd centred Dane's head in the sights of the rifle, and pulled the trigger. Impa had pulled away at the last moment, which was a shame, or he'd have tried to for a double, but alas...

His life was forfeit now. If the hunters found him, he'd be killed on the spot. They'd have traced the murder back to him immediately, and when he was not found at his post it'd be a foregone conclusion. He could hear them now, feet tapping along the corridors around him, shouting to each other as they cleared the fortress room by room. They had the time, apparently. Whiteridge's attack had ceased hours ago, if the lack of shooting was anything to go by.

He shifted his position so he was sitting against the wall, knees tucked up against his chest. It was too dark to see anything, but he couldn't risk any light. The Sheikah, damn their eyes, would see it immediately. Not that it mattered—he could handle the dark. All he had to do was wait until nightfall, and he'd finish his part of the bargain with Ascal. If he had a chance, he might even join the fighting as a sign of goodwill to his new employer.

Exactly how he would complete the next objective, he hadn't been entirely sure, but the answer had presented itself to him just before he'd gone up to take care of Kiro and Dane. So much powder, around so many open flames? They were begging for an accident, like that...

* * *

The senior hunters, along with some friends, had gathered in the infirmary, where Kiro's body had been taken. He'd been cleaned, and had his rifle tucked under his arms.

"We will have to prepare a pyre after this business with Whiteridge is sorted," Mana said, eyes heavy with sorrow. "And write to his sister."

"I will handle it," Impa said. Her voice was strained, and hoarse from shouting instructions to the defending hunters all day. "Has Dane's body been recovered yet?"

"We let two watchmen fetch him an hour ago," Kafei muttered. "Figured we'd allow them that, at least. Tried to get them to talk to us, but...in their eyes, we just murdered their mayor, unprovoked." He crossed his arms, eyes red-rimmed. "Fucking Iteos..."

"Any other casualties?" Hafthor asked.

"A few dead guardsmen," Kafei replied. "We tried not to take killing shots, but it's hard to aim that accurately when they're shooting back. Accidents occurred. Those, too, have been retrieved by their own."

"And our side?"

"Just a few cuts and bruises from debris," Kaura reported from her little desk. She was the only non-hunter present. "But I foresee a lot worse if this continues for much longer, and I can tell you right now that this place is _not_ equipped for that sort of strain. This isn't a field hospital, and I'm only one person."

"I am perfectly aware of that, doctor," Impa said, trying not to bark. At the moment, everything was making her angry. Kaura's comments, Mana's quiet looks of expectancy at her, Kiro's body, the knowledge that she had willingly let Iteos into their home, only for him to turn and stab them in the back...all at the behest of...whoever was out there, pulling everyone's strings. "But Whiteridge doesn't seem very interested in a ceasefire right now, much less negotiate a peace. As Kafei said, we just killed their mayor...and I'm willing to bet that it's Rane who's leading the army now. That boy...he will never abide by diplomacy. He's too angry, and I don't think his father's brains being blown out in front of him is going to help our case." She sighed. "Nevertheless, I would very much appreciate it if you can do as much as you can for our potential wounded."

Kaura nodded. "I never said I wasn't going to do it—I just won't be happy about it."

"Feel free to complain to me afterwards, then."

"Oh, I will."

"Looking forward to it."

Elenwe was fiddling with some surgical instrument or other, which Kaura quickly took away from her. She shook her head and looked at the others. "So, do we have any leads as to the identity of Dane's informant?" she asked. "This supposed agent of Master Terra's?"

"I only caught a glimpse of them in the distance, in the shade," Impa said. "I'm certain they're the ones who gave the signal for Iteos to kill Dane. Didn't see their faces, unfortunately. They knew enough about the hunters to drop Terra's name, as well as my family. They also knew about the princess, which I know for damn sure that Dane had no idea about. So clearly, they are..."

She trailed off. Of course, why hadn't she realised it right away? She turned to Ayla, who had remained at the door for most of the discussion, attention focused solely on Kiro. She perked up when she noticed Impa looking at her. "Master?" she asked.

"Fetch Sheik, will you? I have some questions for him."

She did so, and returned ten minutes later with him in tow. He too could not take his eyes off Kiro, his eyes red. He'd been crying, then. Impa made no mention of it. They'd grown up together. Honestly, she was pretty close to crying herself, not only for Kiro but for the frustration and anger that had steadily been building up inside her for the past weeks, culminating in an assault on her own home, all in an attempt to make her give up her nephew...

"Leave us," she told the others. "Not you, doctor." They shuffled out of the room, offering condolences to Sheik as they passed, touching his shoulders.

"I'll see you outside, cousin," Kafei said quietly, to which Sheik nodded. Kaura remained at her seat, brows furrowed, probably knowing what was coming.

"You wanted to see me?" Sheik asked, looking pale.

"Yes, I have some questions, and I need you to be completely honest with me, nephew."

"I will answer to the best of my ability," he replied, swallowing and looking away from Kiro's body, focusing on her.

"The man who followed you from Hyrule, who tried to kill you after you left Termina," Impa said, pacing from side of the infirmary to the other. "Did he know about Zelda? Did he know who she was?"

"He gave no such indication," Sheik said, eyes narrowing as he thought back to the ambush. "At least, he didn't seem to. Even asked her and Kaura for their names. Why?"

"Did you announce it later? After the battle was over?"

"Of course not," Sheik said. "We were too busy thanking Juichi and then getting the hell out of there."

"I see..." Impa frowned. That only made her thoughts turn darker. "And you are certain you killed them all?"

"We made sure," Sheik said firmly. "And I left the leader with a bullet in his skull."

"People can survive that, nephew," she pointed out.

"Not this one," he growled. "I made sure he wasn't breathing, and he had no pulse either."

Impa paused, looking down at her boots, offering another curse to Ivan in her head. "Then he must have had men on standby, prepared to follow you to the Studio. Perhaps a partner, who came here and began feeding lies about you to Dane. Convinced him that you and Link were a danger to everyone here, and had kidnapped a Hylian noble."

His eyes widened. "What? Is that—"

"That's what Dane claimed to have been told...and the man who ambushed you _must_ have known, but kept quiet about it, though for what reason I cannot discern."

Sheik looked thoughtful for a moment, but then his face twisted into horror as he realised the implications. "Then...Juichi..."

"Is probably dead," Impa finished, nodding slightly. "The partner must have waited until you were gone, and killed Juichi to keep him quiet. That makes the most sense, since I've heard nothing from him since before you went to Termina—and none of the other hunters there have seen him."

Sheik had gone even paler, his shoulders shaking as the death of another brother hunter overcame him. Kaura silently guided him to sit in her chair, giving Impa a glare, as if asking her how this was making the situation better.

"All right," Impa said. "Now we know a little more about what we are dealing with. Someone who has followed you all the way from Hyrule, and is willing to go to extreme lengths to get at you...all because you prevented a slaver group from selling their haul." She looked at Kiro's face, noting how peaceful he looked now. Would any of them look that peaceful, when all this was over? "Violently vindictive," she muttered.

Her musings were interrupted when Sheik rose to his feet, heading for the door. "Nephew?" she asked.

"I'm going out there," Sheik announced. "I'm sneaking into their camp, and I'm finding their leader...and I'll _end them_."

"No."

"I will—"

"You will do nothing except remain within these walls, where it's safe," Impa said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. "We wait out the storm, fend them off until they are ready to negotiate—"

"They _won't_ negotiate!" Sheik shouted. "You said it yourself, these are the same people who hunted me from Hyrule to Termina, and may have killed Juichi for getting in the way! They _tortured_ Lor! They've assembled an _army_ to attack this place, just to get to me! They won't stop, and they won't negotiate! The only thing they'll respond to, is my knife in their throat!" His fists were clenching at his sides, chest heaving as he breathed. "I won't let anyone else die because of this—it's me or them, and I'm finishing it _now_!"

"You won't," Impa replied, keeping her voice calm in the face of his rage. Screaming matches never accomplished anything.

"You can't stop me!"

"I can."

"How?!"

Faster than she had ever moved during training sessions, hardly hampered by the limp from her crushed knee, she'd crossed the room, twisted his arm around his back and forced him up against the wall, face-first. He struggled, but she let her entire weight rest against him, using a few tricks of posture she'd learned over the years. He growled at her, and she let him. For all his skill and experience as a hunter, Sheik was still a child. Still throwing tantrums, and all children needed was time...

Eventually, he sagged against the wall, panting with exertion.

"Like this," Impa finished, letting go of his arm and stepping away. Her knee burned, but she ignored it as she went to retrieve her cane, which she'd dropped while crossing the room. It rattled comfortingly, her constant companion. "If you think I'm about to let you rush into a suicidal assassination like that, you have another thing coming, nephew. And don't think I won't lock you inside your cell if I deem it necessary."

"You can't do that," he tried, rubbing his shoulder, sore from the strain.

"No? And why is that?"

"You're not my mother," he said bitterly.

The words stung, she'd admit as much. But then, it was hardly the first time he'd said it. And they _were_ true. She had never tried to be his mother. She had been his aunt, who'd been charged with his protection, which she had taken very seriously. Sometimes she had faltered, of which she was not proud, but she'd tried to learn from her mistakes, and she liked to believe that what she had failed to offer him in terms of familial comfort, she'd made up for in making him strong. Strong enough to live up to the name he'd so desperately wanted. The name she had granted him...not because she'd pitied him, but because he showed the strength and passion to carry it.

So many thoughts...and she should have voiced them at some point. Perhaps then they wouldn't be so...tough on each other. But they had long since passed the point where such words would be of any comfort. So instead, she nodded, speaking quietly:

"No, I'm not," she agreed. "But I was charged with your safekeeping _by_ your mother, my sister, and I take such oaths quite seriously. As you are not yet an adult, you are still mine to protect, and I will do just that in any way I see fit...even if it means locking you away until this blows over." She pinned him with a piercing look. "So nephew, I would suggest you put any thoughts of a rampage away, and follow my orders. Is that understood?"

Glaring back, he gave a tiny, barely discernible incline of his head.

"Good," she said. "Now, I suggest you get some rest, something to eat, speak a little with Zelda, and then fetch Link from his cell."

His eyes widened at that. "W-What?"

"You heard me," Impa said. "We're under attack, you know. We're going to need all the men we can get—just make sure he stays at your side, as you will be his handler for now."

That seemed to mollify Sheik's anger a bit, and he gave another nod, deeper this time. "Understood."

"Oh, and nephew?"

He paused on his way out.

"We will find the people responsible for this, and we will _kill_ them," she said. "That will be _our_ oath, yes?"

"Yes, aunt."

Silence reigned in the infirmary for a few minutes after Sheik left, until Kaura came to stand next to her, looking down at Kiro. "I should fetch his hat," Impa muttered. "He'd hate to leave it behind."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Kaura agreed. She opened her mouth again, hesitated. "Not that it's any of my business—"

"It isn't."

"—but shouldn't you be working harder for peace? For his sake, if nothing else?"

Impa gave her a long stare before shrugging. "I tried, with Dane. We saw how that went. As much as I hate to admit it in this case, Sheik is correct. Whoever's controlling Rane...they won't stop until my nephew is dead...and having fought many people like that over the years, it won't end with him. They will kill Link, Zelda, me...they will kill us all to bury what happened here. Had they the numbers, they'd probably burn Whiteridge to the ground with us, to remove all evidence. I can only hope that, should the proverbial snake show its ugly face on the battlefield, I'll get a chance to cut off its head. Only then do I believe that Rane will be willing to discuss peace... _after_ I have brought him Iteos, of course."

Kaura remained silent for another long moment. "I noticed you didn't authorise the cannon to fire."

"This was just an opening salvo," Impa replied. "I reckon there'll be a use for the heavy artillery tomorrow."

* * *

Link was curled up in the corner of his cell, back against the wall, his eyes focused intently on the door. The next time it was opened, if he was quick enough, he'd be able to dart out, past whoever was coming inside, and into the corridors, where he could find Sheik. He'd heard and felt the gunshots, the screams, all day. They were under attack, and he was stuck here, in this room. He wanted to help. He _had_ to help!

If anything happened to his pack...he didn't know what he'd do.

The odd description for the group of people he felt comfortable and safe around had appeared in his head on the second night he'd insisted they all sleep in his cell, which had been another request his mouth (or, rather, hands) had made without consulting his brain first. But then, apparently, he was turning into some sort of wolf monster...so who was he to argue with the new instincts that appeared, as long as they didn't hurt anyone?

Some might have found his acceptance of what was happening to him strange, but Link had never been one to cling to what-ifs and if-onlys. What had happened, had happened. He couldn't change it, but as long as he was alive he was going to do his best to keep going. If that involved embracing a few small, radical and not really that small changes, then so be it.

So, they were a pack. _His_ pack. And they were out _there_ , while he was stuck in _here_ , alternatively pacing around the room or hiding in a corner, wishing for someone to come let him out so he could find them and protect them. Sheik especially. He'd _pay_ for going off like that without even telling Link his real name!

He was about to begin his pacing again when he heard familiar footsteps approaching his door...and that spicy, familiar, and comforting scent. He grinned to himself as he heard Sheik's murmuring voice outside, and the current guard heading off in the opposite direction. Keys jingled, and the locks turned...and Link pounced.

* * *

Sheik barely had time to step inside the cell before he found himself enveloped by a pair of strong arms and practically lifted off the floor, Link's very exuberant welcome making him laugh as the Hylian's cheek rubbed against his own. He heard a sniff, then Link's face was right in front of his, looking at him carefully.

Sheik paused, realising what Link was smelling. "Oh, it's...it's not mine," he said, pushing Link away slightly. "It's...Kiro's."

Link went very still, trying to catch Sheik's eyes with his own, but he kept looking away. Link made a familiar gesture with his hands. The first word he'd learned.

**Sheik?**

"Kiro's dead," Sheik said, the dam he'd built around the hurt threatening to crack and explode at any moment...but he couldn't afford to. Not now. "He...He was in the crow's nest, covering Impa, when...when...his throat was cut, and they shot Dane...and now we're fighting." Sheik forced himself away from Link, realising he needed to get the information out quickly, or he'd fail to impart anything at all. "Impa thinks it's the same group that ambushed us in Termina," he said, finally looking Link in the eyes. "Thinks it's one of Ascal's men. Maybe a partner, or..."

Link growled, the sound rumbling in his chest as he paced restlessly around the small room. His hands made erratic movements, too fast and inaccurate for Sheik to understand except bits and pieces.

**Fault...mine...kill...**

"It's not your fault," he said hurriedly. The last thing Link needed right now was to blame himself for this. "It's mine—I should have insisted we remain and clear the area before we left but..." he trailed off, remembering the other conclusion. "Link...if Impa is right about this...then...chances are Juichi, too, is..."

That only agitated Link further, and he looked increasingly uncomfortable walking around, his back hunching over, fingers curling into claws Lips stretched over his teeth, giving him a fearsome appearance...but was it anger? At himself, or at Ascal's partner? All he knew was he couldn't let it stand. Putting himself in Link's path, he put a hand on the Hylian's chest, forcing him to stop.

"Link, look at me."

Link reluctantly did so, breathing heavily.

"This isn't your fault. It's Ascal's fault. His, and that bastard partner of his. Whom we're going to kill, sooner or later. But right now, I need you to focus on this moment, all right? Focus on me. I'm here." He put a hand on Link's neck and pulled him slightly down, so their foreheads touched. Sheik smiled at him. "We're here...and right now, we have to focus on surviving, right? Impa asked me to release you from the cell. We need every able-bodied hunter out there. We're playing the waiting game—Whiteridge will exhaust themselves against our walls, and then we'll negotiate."

Link looked doubtful, but he brightened a little when Sheik kissed him firmly on the lips. "Just believe in me for once, yeah?"

The Hylian slowly nodded. He wasn't happy about this, but at least Sheik had gotten him to calm down. Sheik glanced at Link's nightstand. The repeater Kiro had given Link was still there, wrapped in leather. He could have sworn he saw a bundle in Kiro's workshop earlier that morning, so perhaps...

"We have to give you a chance to try that baby out, too, right?" he told Link, nodding towards the parcel. "For Kiro?"

Link nodded again, looking a little more determined, and fetched the parcel. He lifted it quite easily, Sheik noticed. He'd given it a go himself, when Kiro had proudly shown his work, and the crossbow was heavy as lead.

_So...healing, smell, hearing, night vision...and now strength,_ he thought. _What other gifts has this wolf bestowed upon you, Link?_

"Come on, the others are waiting in the hall," Sheik said, heading for the door again. Link's hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he found a pair of icy grey eyes staring into his own when he turned back around.

Letting go, Link formed a one-handed word. Simple enough.

**Name.**

Sheik chuckled. "Of course, I wasn't about to escape that, was I?"

Link shook his head.

"All right," he said, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "My real name...is Aire."

Two syllables. He hadn't spoken them in years. Not since the death of his family, in fact. Link took in the name, mouthing it silently, as if tasting it.

"My father's name was Alre," Sheik continued to explain. "I was named for him." He stroked Link's cheek gently. "But that doesn't matter anymore—because I am Sheik now."

Link smiled, and stroked Sheik's cheek in return. They shared another kiss, before stepping out into the corridor, and the war.

* * *

Whiteridge attempted another assault just before sundown, surely hoping to catch the hunters off-guard while eating. A foolish endeavour. The attack ended just as the previous, with no hunter casualties while Whiteridge had to drag off several dead and wounded. In the end, the salvo that had ended the attack had finished with a bang—quite literally—as Impa had ordered the cannon in the tower to fire upon their camp. The cannon's range wasn't nearly long enough to hit them, but it certainly discouraged any further incursions for a time. She'd also ensured that the other cannons, though useless and in no condition to fire, were manned at all times as a show of force. Anything to prevent Rane from launching another attack.

Sheik and Link had, to their chagrin, been stationed inside the main hall. Impa had claimed their visiting dignitary, i.e. Zelda, needed protection, as did the non-combatants. This group happened to include Lor, the twins, and Tao. They'd huddled in a group by one of the fires, eating the hastily prepared supper, some sort of vegetable soup that had Link whining quietly in dismay for a few minutes.

Nightfall was quickly approaching, and the hunters on the walls had been reduced in number, and arranged into shifts. Rane wouldn't be stupid enough to attack while it was dark—or so everyone hoped. So the ones who weren't on guard duty were sitting in the main hall, or catching sleep in their cells.

The hunt for Iteos was still on, led by Reno, but the assassin had more or less disappeared, leaving no trace of himself anywhere. His weapons were gone, but all his other effects had been left in his cell. A guard was stationed outside it, in the hopes of his coming back to gather his things. One thing was certain—he hadn't left the Studio. Not unless he'd jumped off the walls, and there were no tracks in the snow below them to indicate such an escape.

All this left Impa very annoyed, and she had sequestered herself in her study with a few of the other senior hunters. Hafthor was outside, coordinating the defensive measures they'd put in place in the morning.

For everyone else, though, especially the _bodyguards_ in the main hall, there wasn't much to do, and they had been reduced to playing poker, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Sheik had just won another hand when he noticed a pair of hunters who'd just returned from the wall looking at Link and whispering among themselves. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but evidently Link could, judging from the way his shoulders drooped slightly.

The changes to their newest brother had not gone unnoticed by the hunters at large, and while some found it merely interesting, others had avoided him for it. Sheik was magnanimous enough to hope that it was simply because of the stress they were all feeling because of the siege and Kiro's death, but...

"Ignore them," Zelda said quietly, touching Link's shoulder. "They don't know anything about you."

"That's right," Lor agreed, folding his hand as it was absolutely useless (Ard agreed with an approving nod, while also keeping Lor's hand from touching the bandage on his cheek, which covered up the redone tattoo which he had yet to show anyone). "It's all rumours with them. They're like some of the girls at the Temple...or worse, even. Gossip, gossip, and more gossip. You'll show them."

Link nodded, and suddenly had a fierce grin on his face as he laid down his cards. A straight flush. The smugness of him was almost unbearable, but it distracted him from some of the nasty looks he was receiving from those who claimed to be his brothers, so Sheik bit down the bitterness of another defeat. Tao looked less than amused as well—he was a sore loser, apparently.

"I don't get this game," Erd said, sighing and putting down his cards. "Never have, never will."

"I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius," Sheik said, shuffling the deck.

"Prodigy, actually, but please do keep calling me things like that," Erd said, preening. "That said, one can't master _everything_ in the world."

"True, but I'd expect a card game to be within your abilities," Sheik said. "After all, even the _princess_ here has mastered it...somewhat."

The princess in question gave him an outraged look. "Is that so? Deal, then, little brother, and let me show you that _somewhat_."

Sheik did so, trying to keep his attention on the here and now. If he didn't, everything that had happened so far would just start going in circles in his mind, picking up speed and turning into a maelstrom of regrets, sorrow, anger, and...and...

_No, focus on the game,_ he told himself. _Mourn Kiro later, when this is over. Focus on the game, keep the others distracted._

He didn't get a chance to keep them distracted for much longer, as Link's face twitched a little before he looked up. A pair of hunters were approaching them. Tira and Ayla were armed to the teeth, ready for action at any moment.

"A poker game, and I wasn't invited?" Ayla asked as she came closer. "I'm hurt, I really am."

"You're on patrol," Sheik said coolly, still not entirely happy with the Gerudo for advocating Link's death just after his injury.

"Looking for Iteos, actually," Tira said, her focus on a different person entirely. "Seen him?"

"No, unfortunately," Zelda replied. Sheik noticed in the corner of his eye that Link was looking between the princess and the hunter with a strange expression, as if trying to figure something out. Zelda was making a point of _not_ looking back at him.

_Strange,_ Sheik thought, making a note to ask Link about it later.

"Anyway, we were in the workshop when we found this on... _his_...desk," Ayla said, retrieving a small box and placing it on the table. "There was a note, and...well, it's for Link." She pushed it towards the Hylian, giving him a reserved look. "I checked it—nothing dangerous."

Link opened the plain-looking box, taking out three metal drums, in each of which dozens of small, razor-sharp crossbow quarrels had been placed, as well as a small, leather-bound book. On its pages were Kiro's meticulous handwriting, as well as sketches, providing a breakdown of how the clockwork mechanism of the Zukov worked, how to repair and maintain it, as well as how to operate it. The drums were loaded into the chamber on the bottom of the crossbow, and the mechanism ensured that they were loaded and fired rapidly.

Link's eyes teared a little up as he read it, and then closed the book, patting it gently.

"Kiro's last present," Ayla said, eyeing him carefully. "Make sure you put it to good use, yeah? Preferably plant one between Iteos' eyes."

Link nodded, giving her a grateful look.

She nodded back, and rubbed her neck awkwardly. "Anyway, we should continue our patrol. Tira?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Keep an eye out, all right? Never know when something might happen around here." Tira had been completely distracted by...something, and she looked rather embarrassed about it, glancing around the room. "Oh yeah, and be careful with open flames—looks like Impa's brought up our entire store of gunpowder. One spark, and this entire place will go up."

Sheik had been pointedly trying to _ignore_ the hundreds of barrels filled with highly explosive gunpowder and ammunition stacked up around the main hall, but now she'd made it impossible. "Thanks for reminding us," he drawled. "Just what I wanted to remember."

"I live to serve," Tira said playfully, winking before joining her partner and resuming their hunt.

"I hope they find him," Erd said quietly, touching his neck, where several ugly bruises could be seen just below his high collar.

"They will, sooner or later," Sheik assured him. "And then we'll hang him."

"Too good for him."

The table gave the usually affable scientist a strange look, to which he shrugged and put his cards down. "I fold," he said, daring anyone to ask. No one did.

* * *

It was almost midnight, and Sheik had briefly returned to his cell to fetch Link's sword. He'd almost forgotten about it in the midst of all the chaos, but the box from Kiro had reminded him. He found the weapon where he'd left it, wrapped in leather under his bed, next to his lyre. He unpacked the sword, admiring the craftsmanship Hafthor had put into it before slinging it onto his back and leaving his cell. Locking it behind him, he headed back towards the main hall...and then it struck him.

When Iteos had touched his cheek, Link had been absolutely offended to find the man's scent on Sheik's skin. If Link's nose was _that_ sensitive, then perhaps...

He ran back to the main hall, panting as he finally reached their table, looking directly at Link. "You can smell him, can't you?" he asked.

It took a moment for them to pick up on what he was talking about, during which they all looked at him as if he were insane...and then Link caught on, and he nodded.

"Do you think you could find him, if you had...you know?"

Link thought it over for a moment, and gave a half-nod, as well as signed,

**Maybe.**

"Good enough, come on."

He all but hauled the Hylian out of his seat and towards the stairs that would lead to the crow's nest, leaving a befuddled group of individuals behind...who were then hot on their heels, refusing to miss whatever was going on.

Sheik tried not to imagine the sight of Kiro's body in the corner as they stepped inside the small room. He gestured to the spot from which Iteos must have taken his shot. "There, he was there. Can you find his scent?"

_I'm treating my lover like a bloodhound,_ he thought as he watched Link crouch down and take deep sniffs, pointedly ignoring the dried blood on the floor. They all did.

"Sheik, do you really think that'll work?" Zelda asked, fingering one of her daggers nervously as she kept glancing back into corridor. For all they knew, Iteos could be around every corner, and she didn't much like the idea of running into him.

"If his nose is as sensitive as he claims, then it's quite possible," Erd said.

"He's not a dog, though," Lor said hesitantly.

"No, he's a wolf," Ard corrected him.

It felt like an eternity before Link stood up, looking around the room, as if trying to pinpoint something. He looked at Sheik and gave a nod.

"You found it?"

**Yes. Follow.**

They followed Link through the corridors. He meandered a bit now and then as he lost the trail—his senses weren't perfect, he said. Through the main hall, past the cells, into the workshops...back out and towards the stairs leading to the fortress' lower levels. Here, too, Link lost the scent several times, but quickly recovered it, and he finally stopped outside one of the smiths' storerooms.

"He's in there?" Sheik asked.

**Smells of him**.

Link held his hand out, and it took Sheik a moment to realise what he was asking for. Then he remembered they'd left the Zukov back in the main hall, and handed Link one of his pistols. That the Hylian would ask for one...well, that just spoke volumes of how much he wanted revenge, didn't it?

"All right, the rest of you stand back," Sheik said. "We're going in."

It was one of those moments where, the moment Sheik had committed to an action, he realised he should have thought it through more thoroughly. It was important to catch Iteos, yes, but the man was also an accomplished assassin, and dangerous. Of the people gathered, only Link and himself were hunters...well, Zelda counted too, he supposed, but still...his foot was already about to kick the door to the storeroom open, so he could only hope the two or three of them were enough.

The door slammed open, and they rushed inside.

* * *

Kafei felt decidedly uncomfortable with the look his cousin-slash-aunt was giving him when he and Elenwe stepped inside her study. Mana was there as well, standing next to Impa's chair behind the desk. She was the one who greeted them upon entering.

"Please sit," she said, gesturing to the plain chairs in front of the desk. "There is something we need to discuss."

"I think I already know what that is," Kafei said, noticing the concerned look Elenwe gave him. "And I retain my position in that I am not comfortable with it—"

"At this point, your comfort with it is unimportant," Impa interrupted, still giving him that look. It was...almost pitying? "What I need to know is that you're prepared to go through with it, that you will actually follow the instructions. Well?"

He tried not to scowl. He hadn't lived under her whip like Sheik had when he was younger, but damn if she hadn't managed to get Kafei under her boot as well. Was that what being family was like? He was almost starting to understand why Elenwe had abandoned her mother and sisters after growing tired of piracy.

"Of course I'm prepared," he finally said. "I have even memorised the list, as well as the map. I am fully committed to going through with it, but I still won't like it."

"That is perfectly fine, child," Mana said, her tone far more comforting than Impa's. "We only need your cooperation...and, frankly, none of us are happy about the idea."

"But contingencies are what has kept our people alive throughout the ages," Impa said. "Backup plans for backup plans for backup plans. Never-ending layers of them."

"Sounds like paranoia to me," Elenwe said.

"Were you in my shoes, you'd find paranoia to be a trustworthy ally."

"Isn't that what all paranoid people say?"

"Enough," Kafei said, not willing to endure another argument between his wife and pseudo-parent. "Like I said, I am prepared to follow through with the plan. My preparations are ready—are yours?"

"They are," Impa said immediately. "The final adjustments were made by the engineers earlier this afternoon, after the first attack. You just do as I instructed, and it will all go off without a hitch. Please recite the plan to me."

"I—"

"I want to hear it."

So he did. Kafei recited the entire sordid plan from beginning to end, making his displeasure known the entire time. Impa and Mana nodded all along, apparently satisfied towards the end.

"Excellent, thank you, Kafei."

"Is that all?" he asked.

"One more thing, child," Mana said, glancing at Impa, who opened her desk drawer and retrieved something from within, holding her hand out to him. "For safekeeping only, of course," Mana continued. "You will return it once this is over."

The object was a little heavier than he imagined, and when he looked at it he fought the urge to hurl it away like it burned him. He didn't want it. Had never wanted it. "I don't think I can—"

"It's on loan," Impa said, refusing to take it back. "Keep it safe, and give it back to me later."

"It is only a contingency," Mana said affably, reusing the word Kafei had begun to hate ever since they'd pitched the idea to him at the start of winter. "Nothing to worry about."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "May I go now? I have defences to see to."

"You may," Impa said. "Report back to me at the end of your shift. Oh, and Elenwe?"

"Yes, master?" she asked.

"Look after him, will you? Make sure he doesn't do something stupid."

"No heroics, got it," Elenwe said firmly.

"That goes for you too, by the way."

"I assumed as much."

After they'd gone, Impa breathed out and let her forehead hit the desktop with a resounding thud. "And to think I coveted this position when I was a child," she said, words muffled by the wooden surface.

"You're doing fine, Impa," Mana said soothingly. They weren't that far apart in age, not really, but Impa had always found comfort in the older woman, even in the darkest hours. "You're doing exactly what any of your ancestors and predecessors would do. They will not fault you for this."

Impa threw a nasty scowl at Ivan's old armour. "I'd rather wished I'd do better than them."

Mana chuckled, rubbing the master hunter's shoulder. "Don't we all?"

* * *

Nothing. The storeroom was devoid of life...but only recently, Link claimed. They'd found a hidden alcove behind one of the large crates, completely out of sight from any search parties who did not have the benefit of Link's nose.

_We should have asked him to help us right away,_ Sheik thought. "All right," he said. "So he was here recently? Can you pick up his trail again?"

This time Link didn't look as confident, shaking his head slightly and crossing his arms, pointing his index fingers in opposite directions.

"His tracks keep crisscrossing; you can't tell which is which?" Link nodded, which made Sheik deflate quite a bit. Then he gave Link a weak smile. "Well, at least we found his hideout. He can't come back here, so sooner or later, we'll flush him out."

Link seemed encouraged by that...and then his eyes focused on something behind Sheik's shoulder.

"Oh," Sheik said, reaching behind him and unbuckling the sword belt. "I was going to give this to you earlier, but I got caught up in my idea...here." He held the sword out to the Hylian. "It's for you," he added when Link hesitated.

Carefully, Link took the blade, drawing it. His eyes lit up at the sight of the delicate grooves. He made that trilling sound, the one that meant he was pleased, again, and it caused Sheik's stomach to heat up. He found that he liked that sound very much. The moment was only slightly ruined when Link tried to run a finger along a groove...and hissed, withdrawing his finger immediately, glaring at the sword.

"Oh," Sheik almost gasped, touching Link's wrist, bringing his attention back to the present. "It's silver...I forgot to tell you. To replace the...heavy one..." He brought Link's finger up to inspect it, noticing a very slight burn mark where he'd touched the groove. "Guess that answers _that_ question," he murmured.

Link trilled questioningly.

"It seems you've also inherited a weakness to silver, in addition to your other...abilities," he explained. "Which...probably means you should be careful when using this blade...that is, if you still want it?"

He'd understand it if Link rejected it now. After all, why would he want a sword that'd burn him if he as much as touched it without gloves? And what if he cut himself on it, and what if—

He felt a pair of lips brushing against his forehead, and a hugely-grinning Link looking down at him, positively thrilled with his gift, even if it had the potential to hurt him badly...but then, didn't all swords carry that particular risk?

"You like it?" Sheik asked.

Link touched the grip, and then his chest, right above his heart.

**Love it**

He then touched Sheik, and his heart.

**Love you**

Sheik felt the heat come to his cheeks. "I lo—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud boom, and the entire fortress shaking. Dust rained down on them from the rafters, and the oil lamp they'd lit fell off the crate, smashing against the floor. Sheik nearly lost his balance, but Link held him close, supporting him. The noise and shaking stopped as soon as it had begun, and an odd silence fell over them.

"Is everyone all right?" Sheik called out to the others, coughing from the dust.

"We're good!" Lor called back. "Zelda has a Tao growing on her back, though."

"Which I'm completely fine with!" Zelda added.

They joined the others, finding Tao clinging to Zelda's back. Ard and Erd looked worried.

"That came from the courtyard, I think," Erd said.

"All right, back to the main hall," Sheik said in his most commanding voice. He'd been given responsibility for these people, and he'd rather not bring Impa's rage down on himself...or more of it, since he'd technically disobeyed his orders by bringing them down here.

What they found...was chaos.


	55. The Stand

The main hall was filled with the shouts and cries of wounded hunters, the smell of blood lingering heavily in the air. The smell coated Link's tongue as he almost compulsively sniffed, to the point it felt intoxicating. A small twinge of nausea made itself known when he realised he actually _enjoyed_ the smell...but why?

He had no time to contemplate this as they rushed inside, only to be greeted by the sight of at least a dozen of their hunter brothers and sisters, dragging themselves inside, bleeding and covered in dust and ash. Some had lost limbs, while others clutched at the pieces of shrapnel sticking out of their bodies. One particularly unlucky Hylian was clutching what seemed to be a sizeable hole in his skull, refusing to let anyone touch him.

Kaura, assisted by some of the other non-combatants, flitted back and forth between them all, doing her best to calm and stabilise those who seemed most likely to survive. When she spotted the group, she nodded to Tao and Zelda, who immediately went to join her. The twins and Lor also went to work, but they went for the broken equipment that had been brought inside by the wounded hunters.

Sheik had frozen at the sight, and only Link's gentle nudge and piercing look seemed to bring him back. He blinked, staring up at Link (had he gotten taller?), looking, for the lack of a better word, fearful. "Link...I..." he began, trailing off when no words seemed to come to mind. Link didn't know what to say either, and his heart was beating wildly in his chest, the smell of blood, tinged with fear and anger sending his mind into a frenzy he had to wrestle it away from.

Link gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile, patting his shoulder. It's going to be all right, he tried to communicate with his eyes. Sheik didn't seem convinced, but he gave a slight nod in return.

"Hey, you two!" Ayla was helping a limping hunter inside, her leg gone at the knee. "Impa wants you outside! Bring guns!"

"What happened out there?!" Sheik demanded as he began checking his weapons, while Link made a beeline for his repeater.

Kiro's last gift. Link felt his stomach give a lurch at the thought of the big-hatted Sheikah no longer breathing. He hadn't gotten to know Kiro nearly as well as he wished he had, and now it was too late...

He lifted the heavy Zukov and grunted, examining it. There was a small crank, which seemed to wind the clockwork. He gave it a few turns, satisfied when he heard the clicking inside the device, even over the cries of the wounded.

"Sabotage," Ayla said bitterly after depositing the hunter in a chair, signalling for Kaura to come examine her tourniquet. "Someone blew up the gates—from the _inside_!" She began to reload her pistols as she spoke, the blade of the scimitar on her back slick with blood. "Whiteridge took the opportunity for another rush. We're holding them back for now, but...they've got a lot more guns than we do." Her hair, which had come undone, was quickly pulled back into a ponytail and tucked beneath her collar.

"Iteos," Sheik said simply, his voice a low growl that, in any other situation, would have had Link a little excited. As it were, however, he had to focus on the present situation...and try not to dwell too much on the smell of blood. His mouth filled with saliva for each sniff, which he found disconcerting.

"Aye, I bet he's the fucker responsible for this," Ayla replied, glancing around the hall. "These are all the wounded...lost at least six in the blast."

Sheik cursed under his breath, glancing at Link. "Where do you want us?" he asked.

"Impa's in the gun tower, trying to fix the cannon—Iteos messed with that too. She wants you up there." Ayla also looked to Link. "You ready to try that thing out, wolfy?" she asked. Link gave her a look, but he'd heard no venom in her voice, and so simply nodded. She grinned in return. "All right, let me show you how to load it. Flip it over."

He did as she said, exposing the empty chamber on the underside of the Zukov. Ayla picked up one of the bundles of quarrels, about the size of her fist, maybe a little bigger, and showed him what seemed to be the right side up. "See this tab?" She asked, to which he nodded after spotting the small piece of metal sticking out from the roll of quarrels. "It goes inside the slot, right? Keeps it in place, and ensures a clean entry for the quarrels. Wind the crank a little."

The mechanism protested slightly at being wound more, but two cranks later Ayla nodded. "That's enough," she said, indicating a small lever next to the crank. "Pull that...but point it _away_ from me, please."

Doing so made the Zukov click loudly, and one of the small quarrels, the length of an index finger, appeared from the chamber and slid into place just in front of the drawstring, which the lever had pulled back.

Ayla patted Link's shoulder. "You're good to go, big guy. Pull the trigger to fire, repeat the process when you run out. If I remember correctly, those things contain about thirty-five quarrels, after which you'll need to reload. Here."

She picked up the two remaining rolls of quarrels and stuffed them into the pockets of Link's coat, along with the small manual Kiro had written, which he put in the inner pocket, just over his heart.

Sheik had watched this process silently, but gave Link a firm nod when the loading was finished. He'd drawn one of his pistols. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Give 'em hell, boys. I'll join you in a bit."

A few more wounded—this time by bullets—were brought inside as they headed for the doors to the courtyard. The blast had shaken the keep to its foundations, and cracks had appeared in several places of the stonework. The mosaic at the entrance was completely ruined, destroyed by a large piece of pillar that had fallen onto it. The sound of gunfire and shouting grew louder and louder, and the smell of smoke more vivid. One of the main doors to the keep was wide open, the orange glare of fire lighting up the entrance to the point where they both had to look away for a moment, to let their sensitive eyes get used to it.

Sheik put a hand on Link's arm just as they were about to step through it, giving the Hylian a serious look. "Stick with me, all right?" he said. "No matter what happens, we don't separate. We fight _together_."

Link couldn't resist it, and put a hand on Sheik's neck. Gently bringing their foreheads together, he stared into Sheik's eyes and made that trilling sound in his chest. Sheik seemed to like it, and that was all the reason he needed to do it. He thrice-cursed his body's apparent inability to restore his vocal chords, wishing he could give Sheik as much reassurance as he could in words, but...this is what he had to work with. As they parted, he made a one-handed sign (hoping to the Goddesses he didn't get it wrong):

**Together**

Sheik nodded, and they stepped through the doors.

* * *

Ascal watched the massive hole torn in the Studio's gates through a telescope he'd liberated from Dane's body. Fire bloomed from within the walls, and smoke rose above them. Muzzle flashes from pistols and rifles twinkled from the walls and towers, the shouts of the attackers and defenders echoing through the valley. Screams of the dying and wounded from both sides intermingled into one agonised sound that would have put the shivers in him...had he not been witness to such a wail before.

Too many times, he thought to himself.

He ground his teeth, displeasure crossing his face.

It shouldn't have come to this.

Once again he'd put too much faith in mortals. He'd actually, for a moment, dared to hope that Dane would be successful in convincing Impa to give them up...but she'd dug her heels in. He'd seen the look of uncertainty on Dane's face when he'd turned to look back at Ascal and Arthur, seen the gears and wheels turning in his head. There'd be questions, demands of information Ascal could not give.

The sun had been particularly glaring that morning, and the all-too-familiar headache had settled just behind Ascal's eyes, which had blurred with tears whenever he looked too long at the pair of negotiators. His patience, something he had always been rather proud of, had snapped. They'd received the signal from the crow's nest, and that alone had been reason enough to get this sordid business over with. It always ended in blood. Always.

Arthur had given the signal with a piece of broken mirror, taken from Dane's manor. To his credit, Iteos acted immediately—and his shot did not miss. Ascal would have to commend the man for it later, along with his little stunt with the gate. A little more spectacular than Ascal usually went with, but at this point he just wanted results—and Iteos had delivered. One could only hope the man was still alive, for he surely deserved some recognition for this.

"They're still holding," Rane said, baring his teeth at the Studio. He'd been pacing back and forth, ordering his troops to make strafing runs, trying to thin out the defenders without losing too many of his own in the process, but it was slow going. The men and women were getting tired, losing accuracy and speed as they approached the walls, took their shots, and then retreated. Over a dozen bodies lay behind in the snow, taken out by the defending hunters. "They should have broken when we destroyed the gates," he said, glaring at Ascal. "Why haven't they broken?" he demanded.

Ascal let his eyes bore into Rane's for a moment, taking in the anger, fear, and sorrow in the young man who'd mere hours before seen his father shot dead right in front of him, unprovoked. The perfect catalyst for a battle like this. There was a determined edge to Rane's posture, mixed in with the anger, and that told Ascal the young man wouldn't call off this attack anytime soon. A wise commander would have when the sun set...but Rane wasn't a wise commander. Not yet. Probably wouldn't be, if things continued like this.

"They're fighting for their lives, sir," Ascal said, nodding to the walls. "We have them boxed in, and my man on the inside just took down a key part of their defences. They know that the moment even _one_ of your men sets their foot inside the walls, all is lost. So they fight with everything they have...and won't stop until either all of them are dead, or _we_ all lie in the snow."

"Last stand," Art added with a grunt.

"My men are getting tired," Rane said, beginning his pacing once more, the snow crunching beneath his boots. His face was streaked with soot. He'd taken part in some of the strafing runs. "We can't keep this up indefinitely. Do you have a plan?"

Not so much a plan, Ascal thought. Remarkably simplistic, really. But then...wars are won by numbers, are they not?

Not to mention it'd solve another problem Ascal assumed he'd have to deal with later anyway, and he had always been a great believer in multitasking...

He turned to Rane. "I do, in fact, but it will require no small amount of bravery on everyone's parts, including your own."

The young man's eyes, so similar yet unlike those of Ascal's young lord, shone with determination. "We're ready," he said. "Anything to avenge my father."

Ascal smiled. "Then let us do just that."

* * *

Sheik had never been at war. He'd been witness to local skirmishes between feuding noble families, seen armies marching...but he'd never actually seen a battle like this. His body felt like lead as he and Link moved across the courtyard, bullets whistling around their heads and slamming into the walls next to them, showering them with dust and small, razor-sharp shards of rock.

The gates, along with the drawbridge, were _gone_. Left in their place was a massive hole in the Studio's mighty walls, the surrounding buildings burning to the ground as the defenders were too busy repelling Whiteridge's repeated attacks. One of the gun towers had collapsed, and taken a large piece of the parapets with it. The spot where Sheik and Kiro had been shovelling snow...nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Some sharpshooters erected some basic barricades by the remains of the gates, shooting and reloading in teams to keep the enemy from entering the keep. Several lay dead, hit by lucky shots from the outside. Others were on the walls, shooting and ducking behind cover, relocating to confuse the attackers and give them less of an idea where to aim next.

Sheik spotted Kafei and Elenwe, taking cover by a gargoyle. Kafei was reloading, Elenwe was shooting, taunting the attackers that she shot better and faster with one arm than them, words barely audible over the din.

The noise of it all was deafening, his ears aching already. He could only imagine how Link, with his more sensitive hearing, was feeling about it.

The Hylian had his hand gripping Sheik's forearm tightly, dragging him along, taking his oath of them fighting together perhaps a bit too seriously, but Sheik didn't mind. He wasn't sure how fast he'd be moving on his own, whenever he spotted a familiar face staring blankly back with dead eyes. How many had they lost already? And all thanks to Iteos...

He focused on the rush of hate that sprung up in his chest at the thought of that man. This was his fault. Iteos had killed these men and women...and Sheik would see justice done for that. Now, though, he had to stay alive.

They reached the base of the artillery tower, where the upper part of the tower had showered the ground with bricks and mortar when the roof had collapsed. They were ushered inside by the lone hunter at the bottom. The steps had cracked, and large holes had appeared in the walls where the old engineering had finally given way to the tooth of time...and vibrations of explosives. At the top, on the level below the collapsed roof, they found Impa directing the repair efforts of the single cannon that had functioned. The wheels were broken, the frame bent under the weight of the barrel. Hafthor, along with one of the other smiths (Royce, Sheik believed his name was), and Reno, was desperately trying to fix the frame.

"Impa—"Sheik began, but the older Sheikah cut him off with a finger, still staring at Hafthor.

"Haf, tell me honestly, is it salvageable?" she asked, paying no heed to the puff of smoke exploding right next to her head. "Some terrible shots down there," she muttered, dusting the shoulder of her coat.

"Salvageable?" Hafthor asked, giving her an incredulous look. "No. This thing is dead. We're lucky to maybe get off one final shot before the frame breaks and the barrel bends under its own weight. If we could get it to the forge, maybe we could reinforce it, but we don't really have the time for that, do we?" He glared at the weapon. "Should've fixed the others..."

"Live and learn," Impa said. "Get it ready for one final shot, then, if you can."

"Got it."

With a sigh, she turned to Sheik and Link, giving the Hylian a quick once-over. "I take it you know how to use that thing?" she asked, referring to the Zukov on Link's shoulder. At his nod, she said, "Good. Kiro worked hard on that—don't let his efforts be in vain." She then directed her attention to Sheik, apparently going to make no mention whatsoever of Link's...condition. "And you? How are things inside?"

"Chaotic," Sheik replied. "Ayla's bringing the wounded to the hall, and Kaura's working on them with Tao and Zelda. The twins and Lor are working on broken equipment."

"I see." Impa looked at the broken cannon for a moment. "I need every able gun on the wall," she said, pointing to the door leading to the ramparts. "Keep them away until they tire and give up. We've taken a blow, but we aren't beaten yet."

Before they could step through the wall, Impa gave them another look. "Be careful—both of you. And listen for any signals."

There was no time for anything more than that, but Sheik was surprised to see worry in her eyes. He hadn't seen that in years...and that filled him with more dread than even the sight of the ruined gates. If his aunt was shaken, then things were dire indeed.

The wind had picked up, and Sheik shivered slightly once he stepped onto the rampart, cheeks stinging from the freezing cold air. Crouching behind the waist-high wall, Sheik pointed to Kafei and Elenwe's position. "We'll head over there!" he shouted to Link. "Give them some cover!"

Link nodded, and soon they were making their way along the wall. Sheik spoke encouraging words to the defenders they passed, clapping their backs or shoulders. He wasn't sure how much effect his words had, but... His train of thoughts froze slightly as he had to step over the body of a dead hunter. Reyla. A bullet had struck her throat. Her hands were still clutching at the gaping wound, but she was long gone.

_I'll kill them all,_ Sheik thought. _Every last one of them!_

He drew a pistol, peeked over the wall, and fired at the nearest Whiteridge soldier he saw. He had no idea if he hit or not, as a volley of bullets struck the parapet, forcing him to take cover again.

Link pushed at his back, forcing him to move forward. Elenwe spotted them as they approached, waving them over. "What are you two doing here?!" she demanded. "You should be inside!"

"Too few guns on the walls," Sheik replied, smiling a little when he saw Link and Kafei shaking hands, the Sheikah asking if he could hold the Zukov for a moment. "Impa asked us to help."

"Right," Elenwe said. "Can't argue with that, I guess. Well, start shootin'!"

To illustrate, she stood up, aimed, and fired. A scream of pain rose from the outside, and the devilish grin on her face as she ducked back down was all the confirmation Sheik needed.

"Tried to limit myself to wounding shots first," she said as Kafei handed her a fresh pistol while simultaneously trying to handle Link's repeater. "But...after the wall and...and Reyla, I decided they can all burn in hell with us."

"My thoughts exactly," Sheik agreed, standing up and firing as well. This one connected. He saw the woman he'd aimed at go tumbling into a pile of snow, unsure of where he'd struck her. He meticulously reloaded his pistols, stood, and fired again. And again. And again. He forced himself through the repetitive motions. Stand. Aim. Fire. Duck. Stand. Aim. Fire. Duck. Reload. Repeat.

He heard a sharp twang next to them, and saw Link standing with the Zukov tucked into the crook of his shoulder. The posture looked uncomfortable, but Link seemed perfectly at ease, aiming down the sights of the crossbow. There was another twang, and Sheik looked up just time to see the quarrel strike a Whiteridge in the thigh. He stumbled and landed on his face. Sheik grinned. A natural shot indeed. The man noticed them on the wall, and with a scream of rage threw his rifle up and squeezed off a shot. Sheik ducked just in time, felt the air being disturbed as the metal ball passed right over the brim of his hat.

Link's eyes flashed in the glare of the fire, and he snarled as he aimed once more. Another twang, and the man went limp, the tip of a quarrel sticking out of his left eye socket. He then yanked Sheik closer, as if that would prevent anyone else from taking shots at his lover.

_Sweet,_ Sheik thought, deciding not to focus on how quickly Link had killed the man below. _Not unsettling at all..._

He lost track of time. They continued to fire and take fire for at least another twenty minutes, possibly more. There seemed to be no end to Whiteridge's stubbornness. The attacks couldn't even be called that—they were more like prods, tests of their defences and harassment. Ingenious, of course, because Whiteridge had men in reserve, while the hunters were outnumbered and had every one of theirs fighting.

_How long can we last?_ Sheik thought, groping blindly for another bullet, only to realise he had run out. Kafei wordlessly tossed him a small bag containing more. _Ammunition is no issue. We have the main hall stacked to the ceiling with powder and more bullets than we know what to do with in storage below...but manpower..._

Further along the wall, another hunter cried out as their shoulder was struck, throwing them off-balance and sending them tumbling off the wall. They landed in the courtyard with a loud crack, and did not move again. They were dragged away by a few of the non-combatants, who'd braved the mess outside the sanctuary of the main hall in order to assist the hunters. They didn't fight, but they helped with the wounded, and tried to put out the fires that threatened to spread.

Sheik finished reloading and was about to give their attackers a piece of his mind when someone appeared next to him. Impa sneered at the attackers as she levelled a long-barrelled rifle, took careful aim, and shot a man right in the head. Blood sprayed across the snow, lit by the moon and fires.

"Master, what are you doing here?" Elenwe asked. "Shouldn't you be inside, coordinating the defences?"

"I've coordinated all I can," Impa said, expertly preparing her rifle for another shot. Her cane had been shoved into a bandoleer on her back, along with a weapon Sheik had never seen before. It looked like a normal rifle, but the barrel was much bigger, and ended in a cone-like shape, facing outwards. "All I can do now is buy time." She put a powder charge on the flagstones at her feet. It was red. A signal. "When the cannon fires, you are to withdraw inside the keep immediately. Understood?"

The four of them nodded. "We're retreating, then?" Kafei asked.

"Not yet," Impa said. "But should the situation become unsalvageable..."

She didn't finish her thought. Instead, she took another shot. Another Whiteridge went down, clutching her throat behind a rock. She wouldn't last long. Impa seemed none-too-bothered by this.

A trumpet blew. It came from the Whiteridge's camp. A retreat signal. A group of soldiers came charging out, firing at the walls in volleys in order to provide their fellows with cover, who took the chance to pull out. The hunters took cover themselves, firing blindly over the walls to harry them.

Soon, the last shots faded away, and Whiteridge pulled back out of range. Every now and then, a sharpshooter's rifle sang out in the night, but gone were the persistent barrages and screams from before. Shivering, Sheik released the tension in his shoulders, leaning his back against the wall and breathing out. Only now did he seem to notice the cold, and how he'd lost the sensation in his fingers.

Next to him, Impa was looking over the wall with a telescope. "Can't see a bloody thing," she muttered. "They've hidden behind their tents."

"Maybe they've given up for the night?" Kafei suggested.

"Possibly," Impa conceded. "Hopefully. We could use some time to recover our dead and look after our wounded."

"What's the tally?" Sheik asked.

"Don't have one," Impa replied, shaking her head. "But from what I saw...we're down to half strength."

"We've lost thirty?!"

"Nine dead out here, the rest are wounded...or dead from said wounds." She glared at him. "I've been fighting along with you; I can't keep up with the numbers. Ask Mana if you want an exact tally."

Sheik looked away from her, finding the friendlier face of his lover instead. Link was bent over his Zukov, busy winding the mechanism and replacing the empty drum with a new one. He'd expended the first set of quarrels, it seemed. Sheik hoped it wasn't difficult to make new ones, or Link's weapon would be quite expensive to maintain... Link noticed Sheik staring at him, and offered a wave in return, followed by an upturned thumb.

**I'm okay**

Sheik mirrored the gesture.

"Iteos will pay for this," he heard Impa whisper next to him. "If only we can find him."

"Suppose it's too much to hope for that he was killed in the blast," Kafei said. "Of course it is; we're never that lucky."

"No such thing as luck, husband," Elenwe told him. "We make our own. And since I have yet to spot a thin layer of tissue vaguely reminiscent of a rat, I'd say this batch was a terrible one." She was met with four sets of eyes staring at her in bewilderment, three of those sets belonging to Sheikah. She shrugged. "The rat is Iteos? I'm no good with metaphors, all right? I'm a pirate, what you want from me?"

"I'll have Mana schedule a literature class for you when this is over," Impa said. "It'd do you good to do some readi—"

She was cut off as loud cries could be heard from the Whiteridge camp...which grew in volume and strength. Sheik felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the silvery flashes of the moon catching on the soldiers' polished armour, hundreds of them charging out of the camp...directly at the gates. Even Impa's eyes widened at that.

"What is the little fool doing?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else. "That's...that's suicide!"

"Unless you've got less than thirty enemies left, and their doors are wide open," Sheik said.

The army was already a third of the way across the open field, the frozen streams providing no resistance whatsoever as they were crossed. A couple of the hunter sharpshooters had already begun firing again, but whatever they hit were quickly swallowed up by the tide of steel heading straight for them.

"We can't beat them back like that," Elenwe said. "We'd never be able to shoot fast enough."

Impa glared at the approaching army before unloading her pistol and replacing the powder charge with the red ones. Pulling the trigger, a shower of red sparks flew into the air. As ordered, there was a loud hiss from the artillery tower, followed by an ear-shattering blast as the cannon fired. In the distance, a column of smoke exploded upwards in the middle of the army, the cannonball flinging dirt, snow, and bodies in all directions. It barely put a dent in the army, and they still continued coming.

At the cannon shot, the hunters on the walls sprang into action, withdrawing from their positions as quickly and orderly as possible, retreating towards the main keep...except for a certain group led by a giant. Hafthor, Royce, and Reno were rolling barrels of gunpowder towards the breach in the wall, just behind the makeshift barricades, obscuring them from view.

"Haf, what are you doing?" Sheik shouted as they raced down the steps and into the courtyard, where a few more of the hunters had joined in on the barrel-rolling.

"Preparing a little surprise for our visitors," the smith replied almost cheerfully. "Seemed a shame to let all this powder go to waste, you know?"

By now, about a dozen barrels rested on either side of the breach, promising quite a blast if set off. Sheik caught on to Hafthor's thinking, and grinned. "That'll be quite a welcome, I'd say," he replied.

"We so rarely receive guests for tea here," Reno said. "We owe it to them to provide an experience they'll remember. Or not, depending."

Most of the others had retreated inside by now, and Impa gave Hafthor a questioning glance, seemingly communicating silently. Hafthor nodded, and Impa looked positively stricken for the briefest second, before reassuming her stern expression and returning the nod.

"Best get inside, kiddies," Hafthor said. "Things are about to get loud."

"Too late!"

They heard them before they saw them. A roar of voices, all crying in anger and hate, coming through the breach like the choir of hell. And then Whiteridge spilled inside, through the breach. Sheik could see their faces, this close. Nothing but cold, righteous anger in all of them. They were avenging their mayor and fallen comrades. There had never been a hope for a peaceful solution after Dane's death.

"Allow me," he heard Impa say, and then a click. Everything went white. There was no sound, only a loud ringing, shriek in his ear. He couldn't see, but the world seemed to tumble around him...and then an invisible barrier threw him back—the shockwave! He landed on something soft, which curled protectively around him. Every second seemed to stretch on forever...and then the white faded, along with the ringing, leaving only darkness for a moment...and then Sheik realised he had closed his eyes, forcing them open again.

Link had caught him. They were on their knees on the ground, arms curled protectively around each other. The Hylian's eyes met with his, and the sweetest smile came to Link's lips, almost assuring, and—

"Get up, and inside, now!"

They were dragged to their feet and practically thrown towards the main doors by Kafei. Behind them, the breach was obscured by the thick mist of powder smoke. Here and there, pieces of steel armour could be seen littering the ground, along with only pieces of their owners.

_Hell of a welcome, indeed,_ Sheik thought.

Impa and the others were close on their heels. They were all retreating inside...except...

Hafthor had Katja, his fearsome war hammer, out and ready for a fight. Reno stood beside him, looking like he had raided the Studio for every knife and dagger he could find. With them, another seven hunters were drawing their own melee weapons. Impa paused in the doorway, blocking most of Sheik's view, save for that of the breach.

"Haf!" Impa called.

"We'll hold them, Impa, for as long as we can!"

That was all Hafthor had to say before he and his compatriots charged towards the breach, which was covered in a thick mist from the blast. Impa remained standing for a moment, watching as more Whiteridge men came through the mist, haltingly because they couldn't see. The hunters were closing the distance quickly, out of rifle range...

"Hafthor!" Sheik cried. "What are they doing?! Impa!"

"Buying us time," Impa said, before she began to close the main door with the help of Elenwe and Ayla.

"But—"

Sheik paused as another man came through the mist...a very familiar one. Those amber eyes...Sheik would have recognised those anywhere. The face, too, even obscured by the darkness, had features unmistakeable...except...they all belonged to a dead man. Sheik knew this. Sheik had personally put an end to him.

Ascal's eyes swept across the courtyard, almost ignoring the hunters and Whiteridge man that were clashing right in front of him...and then they landed on Impa, who had gone rigid at the sight of him. Elenwe and Ayla closed the door the rest of the way, and Kafei released the door brace.

The sounds of the fighting outside were muffled instantly, barely audible through the thick doors.

Sheik could only stare at his aunt as she slowly turned around, face frozen in an expression of pure shock...and then she looked right back at him. And he understood. That look...it was recognition. Impa knew who he was! He rose from his kneeling position on the floor (when had he assumed that), ignoring Link's grasping hands at his shoulders and walked right up to her. The shadows cast eerie markings on their faces.

"That was him," Sheik said, voice shaky. "That man...with the golden eyes...that was the man who attacked us. I killed him. I shot him in the head! I watched him die!"

"I know, Sheik, I know," Impa said quietly, voice just as uneven as his.

"Then how he is still alive?!"

"Because he's a vampire, Sheik."

The entire room fell silent at her words, every hunter looking at her as if she'd grown two heads. Impa ignored it all, keeping her focus on Sheik.

_A vampire? But...they are..._

He couldn't keep his thoughts together, resulting in only a fish-like gaping at her, some attempts at communication failing miserably. "But...they are...we aren't..."

"Kafei," Impa said, looking away from Sheik to her cousin. "Split everyone up, have them go through the side passages. Drop every portcullis you can. Find appropriate spots and set up ambushes." Her voice was suddenly dull. Her eyes had lost their sheen, and she looked...tired. "It won't be long before they're through this door...and I've no intention of making it easy for them. Set things up, and meet me in the main hall. We'll gather the rest."

"Yes, master," Kafei said, before hesitating. "I...are we going to—"

" _We'll_ keep fighting till the end," she simply said. "That is all."

He seemed ready to argue, but Elenwe took him by the hand and led him away, already dividing the remaining hunters, all twenty of them, into teams and sending them into side passages and corridors, intent on locking the Studio up tightly and wait for the enemy to come to them. Soon, only Impa, Sheik, and Link were left in entrance hall.

"They're almost done out there," Impa said, drawing her cane. She limped up the stairs to the main corridor, which led directly to the main hall. "Come."

"You know him," Sheik said, aware that Link was almost literally at his heels, looking back at the doors. He hadn't seen Ascal, but he knew exactly who they were talking about.

"I do," Impa said, pulling a lever as they passed it, dropping a heavy portcullis just behind them. It barely made a sound, the machinery controlling it so finely oiled. "Or, rather, I _knew_ him. A long time ago. He didn't go by the name Ascal back then."

"Who is he, Impa?"

Impa paused, looking thoughtful before pulling another lever and dropping a second portcullis. Sheik knew there was a third. The controls were hidden and could only be operated from within the protective barriers. Whiteridge wouldn't come through there! "It is a long story that I do not have the time to tell you, nephew. The only thing you need to know about him is that he is dangerous—"

"That's bullshit!" Sheik said, blocking her way, just before the third lever. "Who _is_ he?!"

Impa glared back at him. "Someone I once thought I could call a friend," she finally said, gritting her teeth. "A man we all trusted with our lives." She clenched her fist around her cane, practically shaking with fury, at him or at the world, Sheik didn't know. "That, nephew, is the monster who murdered your grandmother."

* * *

Hafthor couldn't breathe. Each inhale was wet, and burned his lungs. Every exhale was bloody and wavering, turning into coughs. He was on his knees in the mud, the snow long since melted from the heat of the fires. At his side lay a dead hunter. A Sheikah. Couldn't recall his name. The side of his head was caved in from the butt of a rifle. The culprit lay dead a few feet away, his chest obliterated by Katja.

He stood, his view shifting in and out of focus. Blood loss. His head couldn't keep up with his senses, too dulled by the lack of oxygen.

Where was...where was Reno...?

The others were still fighting. He heard shouts and the clash of blades. Someone stumbled into the corner of his vision. Flash of steel. Enemy. Hafthor grunted and swung Katja. A lazy arc for him, still enough to throw the enemy back into the mud, whimpering from a broken arm. Hafthor grinned, standing to his full height. He'd given Impa a promise, and he intended to keep it.

Another fool bearing the wolf sigil came charging at him with the bayonet of his rifle. Hafthor reached out and liberated it off him, smacking the side of his head with the butt. Reversing the grip, he then stabbed the bayonet upwards. The enemy probably didn't even realise what was happening before the blade reached his brain, and he died, held upright by the rifle sticking into the ground.

Something bit into his side. Hafthor growled and swung Katja widely. Three thuds. Idiots attacking from behind. Dead now, or dying. A splash from the front, another hunter. Dead. Shot in the eye. Not Reno. Maron, possibly? Didn't matter. Not anymore.

If only he could breathe properly, see more than a few feet. He stepped forward, but then stopped. Glanced down. A knife was sticking out of his stomach, attached to a nervous-looking young soldier. He looked up at Hafthor's face with...awe? The sort that sent a warm shower down one's trousers, for sure. Hafthor gave him a bloody grin, grabbed the front of his armour, and slammed his forehead right into man's—boy's, really—face. He felt the nose collapse, the warm blood spraying his face. Another step forward, and there was a loud crunch as Hafthor's boot finished the job.

"No!"

A flash, and Reno was suddenly standing in front of him, covering Hafthor's front, knives flashing wildly at the approaching enemies. They were forming a circle around them. The rest? Dead, probably. Hafthor tried to breathe, and began coughing, falling to his knees once more. That first shot...right in the lung. Fucking impressive, that one.

"Haf..." Reno was looking back at him, failed to observe his own front. Hafthor tried to shout, tried to warn him. Muzzle flash. Loud bang. Blood spattering Hafthor's face as Reno fell, side of his head gone.

Hafthor saw red. He roared, ignoring how his lungs felt like they were tearing apart, Katja held in a two-handed grip, swinging widely and catching soldier after soldier in its maws. Armour bent and broke, bones shattered. Teeth scattered. Blood spilled. Hafthor never stopped shouting. Katja's jaw caught a man's jaw, ripped his head off with it. Rage filled Hafthor's entire being. Rage and loss and sorrow and hate and bloodlust.

Reno was gone. Gone! He'd kill them all, every single one, until there was nothing but blood and bone and gristle left! He'd—

"Enough."

A man stood in front of him. Puny. Dressed like a hunter. But not a hunter. Enemy. Familiar face. Couldn't place. Hate.

Hafthor lifted Katja. He would smash this smirking fucker right into the ground, grind him into the mud, until he became nothing but—

The man stepped aside. Katja hit the ground uselessly...and all the fight left him. Once more on his knees in the mud, surrounded by dead friends. Dead Reno. Still seeing red. Blood? The man was in front of him once more, kneeling down. Amber staring into ruby.

"This could have been avoided," the man said. "You all could have lived. I take no pleasure in this."

He stepped behind Hafthor, who felt the man's hands on his head. A grip, and a twist...and all went black.

* * *

Ascal stared down at the giant Sheikah's body, face-down in the mud. Haf. The name sounded familiar...but then, Ascal had a feeling he knew quite a few of the man and women he'd be killing tonight. At least among the older hunters. This one seemed the same age as Impa...and oh my, hadn't _she_ grown into a stunningly beautiful woman, despite her advancing years?

He'd only barely caught a glimpse of her through the doors, but he'd recognised her right away. How long had it been now? Forty years? She must have been around ten at the time, then. Still cute, adorable. Before the weight of responsibility had turned her innocent gaze into the razor-sharp glare he'd seen her bring to bear at Dane. Before the look she would surely direct at him before the night was over.

Rane's men had moved past the dead hunters who'd so valiantly put up a fight in the courtyard, beginning their attempts at opening the main doors. There was no shooting from the murder holes or arrow slits—meaning the remaining hunters had withdrawn further into the keep, sealing it up tightly behind them. Rane's men would be walking into a nightmare of ambushes and traps. Ascal was inclined to let them. He kneeled by the fallen giant and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You fought valiantly to the end, along with your brothers," he said quietly. "You did your ancestors proud this night."

"Boss?" Art looked expectantly down at him. His knife was bloody. He'd taken a hunter of his own when the melee had begun, unable to stay out of the fighting any longer.

"I think I knew this man," Ascal said, giving Art an ambivalent smile. "His name sounded familiar...but I've forgotten a lot about my time here. There's only so much room inside one's head for these things." He stood up and dusted his hands off. "Did you find it?" he asked.

"Right where you said it'd be," Art replied, jerking his head towards the side of the keep. "Don't think even _they_ know about it."

"Good," Ascal said, watching as Rane came through the breach and immediately began to direct the efforts to break through the doors. The boy spoke highly of courage, but displayed little of his own. He'd hung back just before going through the breach, avoiding the first trap, and then the fighting. So much for doing anything to avenge his father, Ascal supposed. Or perhaps Rane simply wanted a chance at Impa's head.

He'd never get that far.

"Let these fools handle the labyrinth inside," he told Art as they quietly headed for the side. An old fountain stood innocuously against the side of the building, the metal rusted, and the source long since dried up. He was a little surprised that no one had thought to use it...but then he remembered that every single individual who _had_ known about it was dead. Except him, of course.

"We'll take a shortcut."


	56. The Preparation

Link looked nervously between Sheik and Impa, wondering if he was encroaching on a subject that was none of his concern. Sheik had never spoken much about his family save for his parents and sister...and now he'd just learned that Sheik's grandmother had been killed as well.

A thought occurred to him right then, a memory of something Sheik had told him soon after they'd met. That hunters don't live particularly long lives. Death was around every corner when they were on the job, and one was lucky to reach the age of forty, let alone grow older. Impa was around that age...had it been skill alone that got her there, or luck? Or, as Master Hunter...maybe she wasn't in harm's way as often as lower-ranking brothers and sisters...

He shook his head, realising he was trailing off into territories he had no right to contemplate. He didn't know Impa well enough to speculate. Truth be told, all he knew was what Sheik had told him, and as much as Link cared for the younger man, his view of the Master Hunter was tarnished by a deep layer of resentment, the root cause of which Link hadn't been able to figure out...nor was he inclined to unless Sheik himself decided to broach the subject.

As such, he decided to remove himself from the conversation at large, and slowly stepped away from the pair of Sheikah, whose words were whispered and quiet, though tampered with a knife's edge. Even now, they were harsh with each other, but for a good reason. The Studio was falling. Link wasn't an expert on siege warfare, but he was quite sure that when the enemy penetrates your keep with a numerically superior force you have pretty much lost...right? Not that he, or any of the others, were willing to admit it, it seemed. He was almost surprised to find himself more than willing to fight to the end, here, surrounded by what had quickly become his new home.

He touched Sheik's arm in what he hoped was a show of support, and backed away. Sheik didn't even seem to notice—understandable.

Tearing himself away from his lover and his master, Link turned his attention to the main hall at large. There were wounded hunters everywhere. Some had already passed from their injuries, so severe that not even Kaura could hope to save them before it was too late, while others languished in pain, waiting for their turn to cross into oblivion. Even now, the physician and her assistants were flitting about between them all, stopping bleedings, applying bandages, or just slapping a cheek to ensure they stayed awake.

Link thought to join them, but knew he would be less than useless in the endeavour. On one hand, he could clean wounds and bandage them, but would the hunters even accept his help, monstrous as he was? Some had made their feelings on his changes very clear before the battle had started, and while their words had felt like needles to his heart...he found that he couldn't blame them. After all, he _was_ a monster...or half of one, if he understood the things Kaura had tried to explain correctly.

No, he wouldn't undo their good work by forcing himself into their presence. He would simply have to show them he was more than a beast in some other manner. Perhaps they'd find a way out of this disastrous battle yet. He spotted the twins and Lor at one of the long tables, huddled around a pile of books and bundles of paper, talking and gesticulating wildly at each other. Their words were lost in the general noise of the room, among the screams and whimpers of the wounded, but their tones were clear: arguing.

He began to approach them, but found his way suddenly blocked by the princess, who was casting anxious glances around the hall. He gave her a confused look, after ensuring that she wasn't hurt and that the blood that covered the front of her jacket wasn't hers.

"Have you seen Tira?" she asked, looking around the gathered hunters once more. "She was out on the walls, but she hasn't come back yet..."

Link cursed the wolf, the Alpha, for taking away his voice. There were so many things he wanted to say and ask her, but found that he couldn't...or at least not nearly as eloquently as he should be. His chit was nowhere to be seen, and he still didn't master Tao's signs well enough to express himself in a satisfactory manner...and Zelda probably couldn't read them well enough either, so the effort would have been a lost cause anyway.

Instead, he was reduced to gesturing towards the doors, moving his hands in a way to simulate the winding and twisting corridors of the Studio, of the many portcullises and other barricades available to the hunters' defence, the plans for ambushes. It was clumsy, and he felt like a fool, but Zelda seemed to understand it well enough. Her eyes took on a hopeful sheen, and she asked,

"So she's all right?"

Link nodded.

"Thank the Goddesses..." She walked up to Link and stood on the tips of her toes, kissing his cheek. "Thank the Goddesses you're _all_ here," she corrected herself, giving him a weak smile before returning to her duties at Kaura's side.

Not all, Link wanted to say to her. Half their strength had been lost on the walls alone...and then another seven, including Hafthor, in the courtyard to give them time to block the doors. Link had no doubt the giant Sheikah had given the men of Whiteridge more than enough trouble, but...with Ascal there... He shook his head again. He couldn't get bogged down now. Regrets were for later, when he had time for them.

Before then, he had other things to attend to...and wonder about. Like why Zelda and Tira's scents seemed to be intermingled...

...well, he didn't have to wonder about that for very _long_. He wasn't an idiot. What probably _would_ need some contemplation, however, was how to break the news to Sheik, who would probably have some sort of a meltdown from the idea of his adopted sister and Tira being intimate. Really, the idea of Zelda being anything but a chaste and blushing virgin would upset Sheik greatly, Link imagined. His expression alone would be worth revealing the news, honestly...

The three at the table barely looked up at Link to greet him before resuming their heated discussion.

"...not enough, not nearly enough. Do you have any idea how many years of research will be lost?" Erd rubbed his eyes tiredly, gesturing to the books and papers. "We'll need more than this."

"Who'll carry it?" Ard asked, giving his brother a steely look. "Too much. Too heavy."

"Just the essentials, then?" Lor suggested. "The schematics, the blueprints, the bestiaries? Perhaps the notes for the most promising experiments as well?"

Erd looked anything but happy at the suggestion, but gave a slight nod. "It's better than nothing, I suppose, but the thought of it all going to waste..." He looked up, presumably at the laboratory in the tower. "Some of our best work is up there..."

Lor looked up at Link (had he grown taller again? Link wasn't sure...), frowning. "We're not winning the battle, are we?" he asked, not waiting for Link to give any sort of answer before speaking again. "We're trying to figure out what research to try and preserve."

"It's clear they won't let anyone associated with the hunters leave peacefully," Erd said. "Poor Lanry, one of the stable boys, tried to wave a white flag through a window, and they riddled him with bullets. I won't have our research fall into their hands. They don't deserve it."

"Animals," Ard grunted. Link was inclined to agree. If they would not even leave the non-combatants alone...

"A bit harsh, but a sentiment I agree with at the moment, given their ally."

The four jumped, not having noticed Mana sneaking up on them. She looked tired, her eyes heavily lidded. A short, curved sword hung at her hip, the leather on its handle worn with use. The older woman who'd tutored Link was gone, replaced by a deadly Sheikah warrior...albeit exhausted. Whether it was from the fighting or other factors, Link didn't know. Still, he was impressed she'd managed to avoid his sensitive hearing...and he'd failed to catch her scent under that of blood.

"I could not help but overhear your arguing," she continued as if she hadn't just startled them all. "If you are looking to preserve your research, I suggest you head to the laboratory immediately and grab what you can. Sooner or later, we'll be boxed in here, and by then it'll be too late. Maybe we can negotiate a truce, or a release, but either way access to the upper levels will be blocked off soon." She nodded at Link. "Go with them, in case they need help."

Link nodded back. He could do that. He wasn't as smart as the twins, but he had trouble being dumb muscle if it meant he could so something other than stare uselessly at everyone else.

"All right, we'd better get a move on, then," Erd said, turning and heading for the corridor, quickly joined by his brother and Lor. Link made to go after them, but Mana's hand on his shoulder stopped him briefly.

"Finish your task quickly," Mana said quietly, so that only he could hear her. "We have a plan, but it will require all hands on deck."

Link wanted to know what this plan was, but before he could even make a gesture, she was gone, heading towards the arguing aunt and nephew, a put-upon expression on her face as she went to break up what was probably the latest in a long line of fights between them. It almost made him laugh when, as she approached, Sheik and Impa both gave her the exact same exasperated looks. That alone made it clear they were family, tense as their relationship was.

Smiling to himself, despite their situation, he quickly followed the twins and Lor.

* * *

It took Sheik's mind several long, seemingly endless moments to catch up with what his aunt had just said. His grandmother...murdered? He'd been told she'd died on a hunt, leaving her husband, Sheik's grandfather, to take up the mantle of Master Hunter until it went to Impa shortly after his death.

At no point had he ever been informed that her death had been anything but accidental, an unfortunate tragedy that is all too common in the life of a hunter. But now...Ascal, the man— _vampire_ , he corrected himself—Sheik had thought to be dead for months, had apparently taken her life? Between that, and everything else...it was a wonder he was still able to stand.

He could only gape at Impa, who looked as frustrated with this as he felt.

"What...I mean...how...?" His language continued to fail him, and he was only dimly aware of Link's gentle touch at his arm before the Hylian backed away from them, clearly uncomfortable. Sheik didn't blame him. This was...

"It is a long story, and as I said, not one I have the time to tell," Impa said. "But suffice to say, he was one of us, long ago. He was Mother's partner, on a hunt...a routine one, really. A simple mine infestation, a nest of skulkers. Nothing the two of them couldn't handle. But when they missed their return date, Father grew worried. He organised a party and went to investigate. He never gave me the full details, and all I know was gleaned from his notes some time after he passed."

She blinked, looking about the main hall, and lowered her voice a little.

"There was a cave-in. The mine had collapsed. They found her half-buried beneath rubble, her legs crushed, and...puncture wounds in her throat. Two of them. She'd been dead for days, completely drained of blood. His tracks were long gone, of course, but he could only have gotten so far. Father sent party after party to track him down, but...none were able to find him."

She shuddered at that.

"We'd hoped he'd simply died along the way, but...it was clear he'd escaped. They labelled her death as an accident, but we all knew that wasn't true. I guess they were ashamed of what had happened, to trust that...that creature..."

"Did they know?" Sheik asked, finding his voice. This was all too much to take in. "That he was a...a vampire?"

"Yes," she spat. "It was for that specific purpose he was offered a place here. His...nature made him a perfect fit. It made sense, I suppose. They _are_ predators, after all, but..."

"Fucking hell," Sheik muttered, knocking the back of his head against the wall. "And when were you planning on telling me this?" he asked.

"Preferably, I would never have had to," Impa said, not a hint of shame in her voice or face—just exhaustion. "With any luck, that miserable cur would have found a rock to crawl under and never show his face in the civilised world again...but that was too much to hope for, it seems. To think he would resurface in Hyrule...I never considered it. But then, the hunter presence there is exceedingly small...a perfect place to hide..."

Sheik growled, not indulging her in her theorising. "So you were just going to deny me information about my own family? About the monster that killed her? Why?!"

"You were too young to know at the time—you weren't even a year old. And by the time I deemed you old enough...you had already lost enough family to the monstrousness of the world," she said, giving him a sour look at the interruption. "What good would it do to tell you that, having just lost your parents and your sister, that there was a monster out there who likely wouldn't mind snuffing _you_ out as well? Or me, for that matter?" She snorted, looking away. There was something wry to the crooked grin on her face. "I called him uncle, once..."

"I still deserved to know," Sheik said. "We could have realised who he was, after Termina—"

"How?" Impa asked. "Your description of him didn't ring any bells with me—I had thought the matter long since buried—and, honestly, knowing now what you didn't then...would you have been able to identify him?"

"If I knew what he looked like," Sheik said firmly.

"And what would you have done, had you known?" Impa continued. "You weren't equipped or prepared for a fight with the likes of him. The only reason you won was because you surprised him...and the only reason you managed to do that was because you approached him like you were fighting a person, not a monster. Tell me, Sheik, would have done the same, knowing you were going up against a vampire?"

He wanted to say yes, wanted to claim that he'd win just as easily...and then disposed of him properly, like the old books described.

"It wouldn't have worked," Impa said simply, clearly able to tell where his thoughts were going. "The old hunters...they were only guessing. Cutting off their heads only works in the most extreme cases. At worst, it only slows them down. We never were able to find out a proper way to dispose of the parasites before we reached the accord..."

The last thing he wanted now was a history lesson, so he changed the subject instead. "What was his name, back then?"

Impa tapped her cane against the floor. Three times. "Why does it matter?" she asked.

"Indulge me. If only so I can address my grandmother's killer by his real name, when we meet."

His aunt chuckled at that, as if it was ridiculous idea, but nodded all the same. "His name was Emory. Uncle Em, when I still considered him fa...a friend."

_Emory..._ Sheik thought, committing the name to memory.

"Granted, that could easily have been as fake as Ascal is now," Impa pointed out. "He is at least two hundred years old...changing names is quite essential for a being like that, unless he wants the truth of his existence to be revealed. But that was what he liked to be called, so..."

"I'm going to kill him," Sheik said. "And this time, I'll make sure it's permanent."

Impa chuckled again. There was a definite mocking edge to it now that set Sheik's blood ablaze in his veins, and it was only the timely arrival of Mana that prevented him from saying something he might have regretted.

"The defences are ready, for the most part," Mana said. "I do not know how long they will hold."

As if on cue, in the distance, there was a loud crack. The doors to the keep splintering, no doubt. Whiteridge would soon breach their holdfast. Sheik felt his stomach plunge at the thought. He glanced around the room, heart stopping when he realised Link was nowhere to be found, nor were the twins, or Lor!

"They are in the laboratory, fetching the most critical research," Mana said, sensing his distress. "They will be back momentarily."

"In the meantime," Impa said, "I need you to go find Kafei and deliver a message."

Sheik looked at her. "What message?"

She looked hesitant at that, but she hid the expression as quickly as it appeared. "Only one word: _Execute_. Can you handle that, or do I need to write it down for you?"

He bristled, but kept his anger from bubbling to the surface. He'd heard that one too many times to be truly riled up. "No thank you," he said through clenched teeth. "I think I can manage."

"Good to hear," Impa said with fake cheer. "He'll probably be at point A, manning the murder holes."

"All right." He made to go, but Impa pinned him in place with a single look.

"Once you have delivered the message, you will be under his command," she said. "You will obey his orders, no matter what. Is that understood?"

"Why would—"

"Is. That. Understood?"

He knew better than to argue against her when her voice turned so cold, like shards of ice were skewering every word. He simply nodded, and left the hall, heading to the first major ambush point Whiteridge would run into after breaching the keep.

Impa waited until he turned the corner before sighing and turning to Mana, who quickly drew her into a one-armed hug, resting their foreheads together.

"Am I doing the right thing?" she asked the older woman. "The other clans—"

"Aren't facing this," Mana interrupted. "The other workshops have never been under siege. You are doing the only right thing, by them and by your family."

"That doesn't make it any easier," Impa said, huffing weakly.

"Leadership isn't supposed to be easy, cousin," Mana reminded her. "Isn't that what your mother always told you?"

The tension returned to Impa's shoulders, and she steeled her expression and looked Mana in the eyes. "I will kill that monster," she said. "I swear it."

Mana snorted. "Swearing will do us no good," she said. "Just make sure you _do_ it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, cousin," Impa said with a defeated sigh. She looked around the main hall, noting the faces that were there and the ones that weren't...as well as the ones she'd never see again. Too many. She hated this, hated what she was about to do. Climbing onto the closet table, she whistled loudly to gain the attention of everyone in the hall. "Friends, it has truly been an honour to work with you, but now...I have one last favour to ask..."

* * *

Erd felt his frustration grow with every book or paper he was forced to put down, knowing they would fall into the hands of the murderers who were currently trying to force their way into the fortress—his home. That is, if they were lucky. Knowing the people in Whiteridge, who very much reminded him of the fools occupying the countryside in Lumina, his and Ard's works were just as likely to be burned or otherwise destroyed, if only out of petty revenge than the fear of intelligence.

"Not that one," Ard said, suddenly at his side. Erd startled, and then scowled at his brother. True, his treatise on the possible benefits of leeching, as opposed to the miracle cure every charlatan in the Luminan outskirts believed it to be, was probably not all that important (mostly because he couldn't find any willing test subjects), but he was damned if he was going to let his _brother_ be the judge of that.

"And why not?" he asked. "It may come in handy one day. I believe it could have positive effects when reattaching—"

"Not useful right now." Ard had never had too much tact in these matters, and while that was a blessing in certain cases, sometimes it made Erd want to strangle him. And then he would feel guilty, because the memories would come flooding in, unbidden, of the what they'd done to him...to them both. Horrible things. Unforgivable things. As they did now. So he simply put it down, giving a slight nod. Ard seemed to recognise the gesture for what it was, and gave him a solemn nod.

From the doorway, Link cleared his throat a little too loudly for it to be necessary. That was the third time he'd done that since they started...always at the cusp of an argument between the three of them. Keeping them focused on the task at hand.

"We're running out of time," Lor said, elbow-deep in research notes. "I've got the most recent schematics, and the journals I've been transcribing. Is there anything else I should take?"

"That will do, I think," Erd said. He pointed to a pile by Ard, as well as the sparking generator—dormant for now. He had no intention whatsoever of leaving _that_ piece of hardware for the vultures outside to find. Professor Tadian would never forgive them for that. "Ard will take that pile, and Link, if you do not mind, could you carry the generator?"

"And you?" Lor asked.

"I have one more cabinet to go through," he said, pointing to the bookcase in front of him. "Doubt there's anything important there, but I'll still go through it. Shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes. I'll be right behind you."

None of them looked happy about it, Ard in particular. He opened his mouth to protest, but Erd cut him off by shoving his pile of research into his twin's arms.

"You're wasting time," he simply said and turned back to his bookcase. "Get going. Link can come back up if you don't like leaving me alone."

"He will," Lor said. "Come on."

The laboratory was oddly still once they'd left. Link had grumbled at the weight of the generator, but had carried it nonetheless. He had become remarkable strong since the mutation, and Erd made a mental note to keep track of that for the future...if they survived the battle, that is. There was so much to learn from the Hylian, the possibilities endless. Erd already had ideas about a healing potion distilled from Link's blood—all they had to do was figure out a way to isolate the healing agents from those causing the mutations. Difficult, but not impossible, given enough time. Impending Whiteridge assault aside, Erd had a damn lifetime to spend figuring it all out...

He finished his cursory glance at the bookcase, only finding a few volumes he wanted to keep. He gathered them in a pile, and then went through the collection of experimental chemicals he knew had potential. Such a waste, for all the others to remain, but on the other hand it gave him a handy excuse to get rid of the ones that _didn't_ prove useful and that he only kept out of some useless sense of nostalgia—failed experiments he was still too proud of to let go of.

He heard footsteps behind him. Heavy boots. Link then.

"Glad you're back," he said, not turning around. "Could you grab that pile? I'll take this one."

He almost cursed himself for not looking when no reply came. Of course, Link couldn't speak. He spun on his heels, the apology dying on his tongue when he saw the man in the doorway.

"Hello, Erd," Iteos said, a cruel smile on his lips. "We have unfinished business."


	57. The Fate of a Traitor

Ascal took a deep, shaky breath. The air in the tunnel was stale, and rapidly filling with dust whirling up from their intrusion. It had been as Ascal had expected—no one had come through here in years. Perhaps not even since he had left. Or been forced to leave, rather. He grinned at the thought; the hunters within would have no idea their worst enemy knew their own fortress better than them. Behind him, he heard Art shuffling slowly after him in the darkness.

The stone wall at the end of the tunnel looked completely unassuming, appearing for all intents and purposes to be a dead end, nothing but smooth bricks and stones blocking their path. It led directly into the Memorial Chamber, where the massive pillar inscribed with the names of fallen hunters stood. Ascal wondered where her name would be, and if he'd have the time to find it...

A small indentation in the wall next to the dead end, practically invisible, unlocked it. It clicked loudly when he pressed it, and the ancient mechanism ground to life. Ascal took another breath as he put his hand on the wall, intending to push—

"Ah..."

He paused and put a hand to his forehead as a sharp pain cut from the back of his head to the backs of his eyes, radiating outwards until his whole head felt like it was about to explode. He hissed, sinking to a kneeling position on the dusty floor, gritting his teeth as the images, sounds, and smells flooded his mind. All the memories from his time here, unleashed and fighting to come to the forefront. Everything he'd fought to suppress since his exile, since his banishment.

"Boss?" Art asked, sounding concerned. "You all right?"

"Fine, fine," Ascal gasped, clenching his eyes shut. "Just...er...remembering some things."

It was a defence mechanism; one he'd learned out of necessity as he grew older. A mind can only hold so much information, so many memories, before it starts to degrade. It had taken him a long time to learn how to lock things away like this, for his own benefit. It was unfortunate he'd let his technique slip to the others, who'd also used his trick to keep themselves alive and lucid for much longer than they should have been. Many a war had ensued because of this ability...

Then again, he supposed it was for the best. He'd seen too many Nightwalkers grow too old, too powerful, only for their grasp on sanity slip because their minds could not cope with the sheer volume of knowledge and information in their heads...and the missions to put them down. It was just about the only thing the collective Nightwalkers could agree on—that the insane members of their covens were as much a danger to them as themselves and mortals. It upset the peace, their cover. It also inevitably forced them to involve the hunters to deal with the creatures that were drawn to the slaughter, and that alone was a risky endeavour. The accord could only last so long, after all...

He waited for a minute, calmly reining in and forcing down the unleashed memories until they were no longer flying around his head high speeds, and he could finally focus back on the situation at hand. He remembered the first time he'd set foot in this tunnel. It was one of the first moments they'd had to themselves, and he'd wanted complete privacy. Ascal had agreed, of course. He was nothing if not pliable, and the nature of their relationship had been...unsettling to everyone who witnessed it. It was awkward, but...nice.

Ascal shook his head, banishing the memory to the back of his mind. If he allowed every tryst he'd had within these walls to appear like that, they'd never get anything done. Delightful as they were, he had put this part of his life behind him a long time ago. Right now he just needed to remember the layout, all the passages.

"Boss?" Art asked again, touching his shoulder. Ascal fought the urge to rip that arm out of its socket, and cleared his throat.

"I'm fine now," he said, rising to his feet. The headache was still there, settled as a permanent stinging sensation at his temples, but at least he was able to focus on the situation at hand now. He pushed the door, which swung open silently (a testament to the engineer who'd built it), revealing the large room, with its massive pillar. It had barely changed since he'd last seen it...save for the multitudes of names that had joined the old ones, of course.

"Secure the room," Ascal said simply as he strode towards the pillar, running a finger along the old stonework. Art wordlessly and silently headed for the door, taking up position so he could scout into the corridor. "Anything?" Ascal asked, continuing his inspection of the memorial.

"Voices, distant," Art replied, confirming what Ascal himself could hear. "Nowhere near."

"They'll be in the main hall and in the corridors, throwing up barricades and preparing ambushes," Ascal muttered. "The Studio doesn't have any internal defences as such—one of the weaknesses left behind by its builders...but young Rane is still about to walk into a nightmare. Whiteridge's losses will be enormous before the battle is over."

"Should we help them?" Art asked. "Sabotage?"

"No," Ascal said, shaking his head. Where was it? Surely they wouldn't neglect to inscribe her name? "I have no interest in helping Rane win this fight. If he wants to command, he'll have to prove himself worthy of it." He found a familiar name, though not the one he was looking for. Still, he stroked it lovingly for a moment, recalling its owner. "Sejet," he murmured. "So graceful..."

"Eh?" Art asked.

"Nothing," Ascal said, banishing the phantom of Sejet's roguish smile from his mind. So shy at first, but so eager later...Ascal had treasured those times. Continuing his search, he fought the temptation to recall what he could of the owners of the names he recognised. He paused when he found another that he remembered. "Iana..."

She had married Alre, then. Those two had been destined for each other the moment they met, never mind the union their parents had envisioned. He noted the dates, along with the third name that he did not recognise. They'd died on the same day, all three. So, Sheik was the only survivor of that branch of the family...interesting...it certainly made Impa's refusal to hand him over understandable.

Then he found the name he was specifically looking for. _Her_ name. It made his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch, and his chest clenched tightly. They'd gotten the date wrong—she'd died two days prior. He felt the memories stirring, the images that threatened to spring before his mind's eye any second...and he forced them back down. He did _not_ want to relive that. Not now. He had a job to do—he could rage and shout later.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried so hard...but here I am once more...and it'll be much worse this time. I won't seek forgiveness...I just hope you can understand."

Giving the name one last stroke, he stood and joined Art by the door. The man gave Ascal a strange look, which he replied to with a shrug.

"Memories," he offered as an answer. "You know how it is."

"Probably not," Art countered, glancing out the door once more. "Looks clear. Where're we going?"

"For now, I think it best that we avoid both sides. We need to find out where the targets are. With luck, we'll find and be able to grab them before Rane manages to enter the keep and all hell breaks loose." Ascal gave him a wry grin. "Then again...luck has never been a companion to me."

Art patted the dagger in his belt. "That's all the luck I need."

"Let's hope you won't need it, then," Ascal said as he stepped into the corridor, his boots echoing loudly in the hall. "Follow me."

* * *

Erd gave Iteos the most hateful glare he could muster as the man stepped fully into the laboratory, blocking the way out. He'd gotten lucky the last time, when Iteos had been too drunk to block the one thing no man could ever withstand. He doubted he'd be able to finish it that quickly this time.

"Really?" he asked, making sure to keep a table between them as Iteos stepped closer and closer, fingers fiddling with a knife in his belt. Just a distraction from the blade at his wrist, of course. "I don't recall leaving our last meeting in any sort of ambiguous mood—then again, I suppose it's hard to remember anything when you're left on the floor, clutching your jewels."

All he had to do was stall long enough for Link to come back, however long that would take. It wasn't the first time Erd had cursed his and Ard's decision to establish lab up here—the amount of stairs alone was a pain the arse to deal with on the best of days.

"Oh, I remember, all right," Iteos said, circling the table, forcing Erd to move. "I remember vowing to make you pay for that—it was all that kept me from cutting Impa's throat when she yelled at me for it."

Erd snorted, feeling the familiar pounding in his chest and the thumping in his ears. He hadn't felt this in years. It was almost comforting, if it didn't bring back memories of the worst years in Lumina, and the things he'd been forced to do. "You and I both know she'd have you on your back in a second," he said in a taunting voice, hoping the slight tremor wasn't audible.

Iteos' eyes narrowed. "Careful, kid...you know what I did for a living before coming here, right? I can make things slow and extremely painful for you."

Erd moved backwards, knowing a certain bench was right behind him. It put him at risk, within Iteos' reach, but if he could reach—

Iteos surged forward, hands reaching for him. Erd ducked out of the way, hands grabbing for his target...and missed. He barely avoided Iteos' next attack. Sober, the man was a damn menace, much faster than his inebriated self. Erd avoided the fist, only to be caught in the gut by his knee.

Old instincts kicked in, and he lashed out with a fist of his own. It grazed Iteos' chin, which only spurred the older man on, growling as he backhanded Erd so hard he saw stars. He almost lost his balance, and compensated by putting all his weight forward, crashing into Iteos middle and forcing him backwards.

Iteos grunted as his back hit the bench Erd had been inching towards to begin with. He viciously punched Erd's head several times, causing his world to spin before shoving away. Movement to Erd's left, and he heard the blade unsheathing before he saw it, before he felt it bite into his left cheek, cutting upwards. His vision went white, and only when he felt the wrist blade tearing a gash through his eyebrow and finally letting go did he manage to react, reaching out blindly.

His fingers found a beaker, and before Iteos could react he pushed away, all the while hurling the beaker directly ahead. The moment stretched on forever, and he was sure he'd missed...and then the sound of glass breaking filled his ears, followed by a gasp and pained scream from Iteos as the acid began eating through...whatever it was Erd had hit. He couldn't see anything—his eyes had screwed them shut and refused to open...or the right one had, at least—he doubted there was anything left of the other one. He reached up, whimpering when all he could feel where his left eye should be was wet and warm.

"You fucking...argh!"

Iteos' boot struck Erd's middle, forcing him to curl up to defend against further blows. He coughed, all the air forced out of his lungs.

"I'll kill you, you chalk-haired piece of—you!"

All Erd could hear was a quiet growl from the door. Iteos' assault stopped, and then a scuffle began. Fists colliding with flesh, angry grunts. Someone stumbled over Erd's prone body, Iteos cursed...and another beaker smashed somewhere at the other end of the room. Footsteps, going past him, and through the door, padding through the corridor.

Erd remained on the floor, trying to control his breathing and the nausea that had overtaken him, the feeling of vomit creeping up his throat as he realised the damage Iteos had done to him. He flinched when a hand touched his shoulder, and the person above him made a gentle trilling sound. Carefully, Erd forced himself to open his right eye, found the blurry, worried face of Link staring down at him. He looked around, finding no evidence of Iteos.

"What are you doing?" he asked Link, who seemed confused. "Go get him! He killed Kiro!"

Link hesitated, glancing towards the door. Erd gave a frustrated growl.

"I'll be fine! Go get that bastard before he hurts someone else! Go!"

Link touched his shoulder again, and then he was out. Feet pounding down the corridor in the direction Iteos had gone.

* * *

Link felt his lips curl back, exposing his sharpened teeth as he followed the scent of the man who'd hurt Erd, who'd killed Kiro, who'd destroyed the gate...who'd left his foul stench on Sheik's cheek! He'd tried to hurt his pack, and he would pay!

He forced the image of Erd lying on the floor, blood dripping from the ruined remains of his left eye, out of his mind, focusing on the chase. He could hear the man further ahead, breath gasping as he tried to put as much distance between them as possible. Useless, of course. Link could smell him clearly now, could follow his scent as easily as a glowing trail left behind.

Link cursed himself for leaving his Zukov behind in the main hall—else he would have put a bolt right in Iteos the moment he'd seen him laying abuse on Erd. As it was, he'd been too surprised, his first instinct simply to get the bastard away from the scientist, and then ensure that Erd was all right. He should have gone straight for Iteos' throat!

Iteos descended several sets of stairs, and Link found himself increasingly frustrated, as the man threw several obstacles in his way, including some nasty-looking caltrops that'd surely cut right through his boots if he stepped on them. He barely managed to avoid them, jumping over and nearly running straight into an overturned bookcase.

He lost track of where they were going, his mind completely focused on just catching him, and how he'd tear the fucker apart for _daring_ to touch and hurt them all! Only when he followed Iteos through a reinforced door did he notice that something was wrong. Iteos had stopped running, a few rooms ahead...and the air smelled... It made the hair on his neck stand up, and a quiet growl came unbidden from his throat. A word came to mind, and one he found himself slightly puzzled by.

**Intruder**

Iteos was panting, waiting at the end of the last room, which stifled Link with the intruder-scent the moment he stepped inside, stopping just inside as he tried to make sense of what he was sensing. There was a cell in this room, and something huddled within it, in the corner. He wanted nothing more than to growl and bark and claw at it, but he couldn't afford to be distracted, so he forced himself to focus on the man in front of him.

He was already wounded—shards of glass embedded in his cheek, the entire right side of his coat and the skin beneath melted from the strong chemical Erd must have thrown at him—he'd heard the glass break before he'd reached the lab. A melted metal cuff at his wrist was falling to pieces—the blade he'd used to cut Erd with. He could only imagine the pain that was wracking Iteos right now, but to Link's surprise there was only an arrogant smirk on his face as Link came closer.

"I thought I'd gone insane when I found it," Iteos said, still panting from the exertion of the chase. "Thought I'd woken up in some sort of bizarre dream world...but Impa was always a sly one with her experiments. Ethics isn't a word that exists in her vocabulary...but that's only fortunate for me."

He drew a pistol, and Link jumped back, prepared for the boom and pain that followed...but then Iteos aimed away from, towards the cell. He fired...and a shower of sparks exploded from the lock.

A fraction of a second later, the shape within the cell sprang forward, the door bursting open as the lock gave way. The blurred bundle of fur and muscle headed straight for Link, who prepared himself for a fight, and Iteos laughed...but then trailed off when the beast stopped just in front of Link, sniffing at the air. It took the Hylian a moment to recognise the lycanthrope for what it was...and even longer to realise what was happening.

The lycan whimpered, lowering its head and presenting its neck, almost grovelling at Link's feet, its eyes avoiding his.

"What the...?" Iteos said, just as confused as Link was.

Link wasn't sure, but it felt...right. It was right, to have this pathetic creature bowing and submitting to him. As for Iteos... He growled quietly, and the lycan's eyes finally met his. Link jerked his towards Iteos, snapping his teeth. The lycan looked to Iteos, and gave a snarl and rose to its mangled feet, claws curling.

"What are you...no!"

Iteos' horrified shout was cut off as the lycan pounced on him, jaws sinking into his throat. Iteos thrust out with his right hand, forgetting that the blade there was ruined. He screamed, but it turned into a wet gurgle as the lycan's teeth tore through his larynx. The claws ripped his side open, mangling his torso into something unrecognisable.

Iteos was dead in moments...but the lycan continued its attack, ripping and tearing until the man was little more than a scattered collection of parts. The smell of blood and shit filled Link's nose, simultaneously nauseating him and satisfying some deep, animal part...the wolf within. He wanted nothing more than to join the lycan in its goring of what remained of Iteos...but he fought the urge down. Swallowing, he drew the new blade Sheik had given him, the one that had left a small burn blister on his finger.

The lycan didn't even notice that he'd stepped up to it. It only looked up a moment before the sword cut through its neck, separating its head from its body in a single swing. The wound hissed and smoked, the silver burning the flesh immediately. Its body collapsed on top of Iteos', still smoking and twitching.

That, too, felt right. The lycan had been living a tortured existence—Link could practically feel its pain. It was a kindness; putting it out of its misery. He shook his head, still feeling utterly enraged by what Iteos had done, sheathing his blade as he studied the mess the lycan had made of the man. Not much left...except for...

Link lifted Iteos' head by the hair, snorting and grimacing at the smell of blood and the personal stench of the man himself mixing into a disgusting miasma that only served to trigger his gag reflex.

You should have shot me, not the lock, Link thought, giving the mess he'd left behind one last look before leaving the room.

It wouldn't bring Kiro back, or the others they'd lost due to Iteos' sabotage...but he could at least show the remaining brothers and sisters the head of the traitor who'd caused them such pain and sorrow. And Link could only hope he'd get the chance to do the same to Ascal, the man behind all this.


	58. The Master

By the time Link returned to the main hall, Erd had already been moved there, being attended to by Kaura. That was a relief. An angry murmur had settled over the hall, which Link had heard from several rooms away. It fell silent when Link came back, their attention focused on the head he carried. There was a confused silence for a few seconds, and then Impa stepped forward, wordlessly gesturing for Iteos' head. She gave it a distasteful look, but the nodded at him.

"Mauled," she murmured. "I take it you've met Bob, then?"

Bob? She'd actually _named_ the lycan she'd kept captive in the dungeon? Link almost snorted, but he managed to give a dignified nod instead.

"And he's dead?" Impa questioned further.

Link nodded again, touching the handle of his sword for emphasis. Impa's eyes lit up a little at that.

"It works?"

Another nod. Link wondered if he was going to suffer from whiplash if this continued much further. He wished he hadn't left his chit back in his cell. If only so he could communicate with Impa better—to alleviate her fears, to assure her he wasn't going to go insane and kill everyone within reach at any moment.

"Glad to hear it, Sheik and Hafthor worked hard on that." Her breath hitched slightly at the mention of Hafthor's name, but she quickly covered it up with a cough, pretending it didn't happen. Link did the same. Once again he told himself now was not the time for grieving. Now was the time for anger, for vengeance. "I'd...appreciate it if you kept quiet about Bob. He was...a secret. We learned a lot from him...about lycans, as well as what happened to you."

Link gave her a sceptical look, but nodded for the fourth time overall.

"I appreciate that," she replied before turning to the rest of the room, holding Iteos' head aloft. "Brothers, sisters," she announced. "The traitor is dead—our newest brother has avenged our fallen!"

Unlike the wary looks he'd received from the hunters before, this was met with the utmost approval. Those who could raised their voices in praise of his efforts, while those able lifted their hands or came up to clap his shoulders. A warm feeling rose in his chest, like when he'd first arrived at the Studio and been welcomed. A sense of...belonging, the likes of which he'd never felt before in his life, safe for back home in Ordon.

"Well done, Wolf," Impa said, also clasping his shoulder before moving away, back to her corner with Mana, who dipped her head with respect as well. The others picked up on the nickname, and immediately began to use it.

"Wolf!"

"You got him good, Wolf!"

"Kiro and the others are finally at peace!"

It took a good few minutes before Link managed to extricate himself from the suddenly very friendly crowd, making his way over to Erd and the others. Ard was clutching his brother's hand tightly, Lor fussing behind him as Kaura worked on cleaning and stitching up the wound. It looked terrible—a nasty gash that went from corner of his mouth, through his eye and ending just above his eyebrow.

"Couldn't save the eye," Kaura murmured, accepting the bottle of cleansing spirits from Zelda, while Tao prepared a needle and thread. "Gonna leave a right nasty scar, too. Sorry, kid."

"That's...ah...fine, doctor," Erd said, wincing as the wound was tugged at. "Just going to...hah...make me...the more attractive twin." He offered up a crooked smile, whimpering when that tore at the cut. "Right, Ard? Lor's going to leave you for me, at this rate."

"Mine," Ard countered, still clutching his brother's hand like his life depended on it. Link felt guilty at the sight. He should have gotten back to the lab faster. He would have been able to stop Iteos before he'd hurt Erd...

"I don't know, Ard," Lor said, voice filled with amusement. "I'm up for sharing, if you're willing—"

"No," Ard growled.

"Ah, well, to be forever alone is my fate, it would seem," Erd said with a dramatic sigh, apologising quietly when Kaura growled for him to stay still.

"Many find scars to be attractive, Erd," Zelda told him, wiping at the stray drops of blood that ran from the wound. "You'd be a hit with the ladies at my court, I'm sure."

"No offense, Your Grace, but that sounds like my worst nightmare," Erd said, chuckling. "Not to mention that I can't stand swooning. I imagine there'd be a lot of swooning the moment I entered the room."

"Oh, most definitely," Zelda said, laughing as well. "Swooning, fainting, bodices ripping...enough scandalous stories for years. I feel tempted to insist that you make an appearance, in fact."

"I most humbly decline, Your Grace."

The princess shrugged. "I'll wear you down eventually."

Link found himself smiling at the exchange, his guilt somewhat alleviated by Erd's seemingly acceptance of his grievous wound...but then it was probably just a brave front he put up for everyone. His wound wasn't as severe as those of some of the others'...

"Thank you."

He blinked, looking at Ard.

"For saving him."

Kaura grumbled at the exchange, something about there being "too many feelings around here". She glared at the small group, pushing them away. "Those who aren't assistants or family, step away please. It's getting cramped and mushy here."

Banished to one of the unoccupied tables, Lor and Link sat down for a breather, though Lor kept casting anxious glances in the direction of the twins. "Ard was beside himself," he told Link in a quiet voice. "I haven't known him for long, but...I don't think he acts like that very often."

Link huffed, making a sign he knew Lor would understand.

**My fault**

"No, it isn't," Lor said firmly. "If anything, he's alive thanks to you. He told us what happened." He looked towards the fireplace, where a few of the lightly-injured hunters were already busy putting Iteos' head on display, mounting it on a pike above the mantelpiece. Barbaric...but Link would be lying if he didn't feel some amount of satisfaction at the sight. "Iteos would have killed him if you hadn't shown up."

**Late**

"Just in time, I'd say," Lor said, taking Link's hands in his before he could sign again, ignoring the blood staining them. "He'll live, thanks to you. Be happy with that, Link."

Should have been faster, Link told himself, pretending to agree with Lor. What good was the strength and speed he'd gained from the Alpha if he wasn't able to save people with them? He clicked his teeth, wincing when his tongue was pinched between a couple of them.

"No, no, no, not like that!" A loud voice boomed through the hall. "You're gonna blow your own face off, holding it like that!"

A hunter was instructing the non-hunters on how to load and fire pistols. Link noticed that they'd all been equipped with knives and swords, looking nervous but determined with their armaments. Lor cleared his throat, showing Link that he, too, was armed with a blade of his own.

"Impa asked the civilians to take up arms," he said. "Said that Whiteridge isn't going to spare any of us, even if we're not hunters. This way...at least we'll put up a fight." He didn't sound happy about it...but was oddly calm, too. "This is Ascal's doing, right? I...I won't give him the satisfaction of giving up. Just like I didn't the last time."

It felt like it had been years, but it had only been months since Lor had been at Ascal's mercy—tortured and violated, all to get him to give up their location. Link would never forgive him for that, or anything else. The reasons to tear him limb from limb, vampire or not, were only piling up. Link would take _immense_ pleasure in it.

My pack, he thought. Mine.

In the distance, there was a loud boom, followed by shouting voices and, seconds later, gunshots. Lor tensed. "They're inside," he muttered.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen!" Impa announced, positioning herself in the middle of the room, her back straight and hands resting on top of her cane, tall and proud. "It's time—do or die. They won't show you any mercy, so we will return the favour. Those of you who can walk, follow Mana. The rest of you...arm yourselves, and get ready to defend your lives!"

Link went for his Zukov, making sure it was loaded and ready to fire.

"Wolf," Impa said, catching his attention. "Stay here—I need your help to protect the Princess."

"Impa, I can—"Zelda began.

"As a guest here you are still my responsibility, girl," Impa said, leaving no room for discussion. "Try to leave this room and I'll tie you down."

"And if any of you get hurt, don't come crying to _me_!" Kaura announced.

* * *

Sheik found Kafei exactly where Impa had assumed. He, Ayla, Tira, and Elenwe were manning the small, circular holes in the walls by the first portcullis, where Whiteridge would first pile up trying to get through, leaving themselves wide open, like a shooting gallery. They'd catch on to the attacks quickly and start shooting back, of course, but their rifles would too big and unwieldy to use effectively in the cramped halls.

By the time they realised what was happening and began using their pistols, the hunters would be moving to the next fall-back position, shooting through the portcullis, taking as many soldiers down as possible before it was breached. Tactical retreat, it was called. Desperate, Sheik considered it. They had no way to repel an attack like this, not after the walls had been breached. They simply didn't have the numbers, and with the number of wounded...it was going to be a massacre.

The continued banging and shouting voices coming from the entrance hall was only a confirmation...almost feeling like a countdown, each slam of the Whiteridge men's battering ram resounding through the halls, causing dust to rain down on them with every strike.

"Well, look who's here," Kafei said, having finished loading his last pistol, putting in a pile of ten others. The others had similar piles of guns at their feet. "Come to join the duck hunt, cousin?"

His tone was jovial, but he was frowning. The tension was pressing down on him as well.

"Afraid not," he said, but taking up a position by a hole anyway, pulling out three of his pistols, just in case. "Came to deliver a message from Impa."

"And what does our illustrious Master wish to tell me?"

"Just one word," Sheik replied. "Execute."

Kafei stilled, eyes widening slightly before he forced them shut, sighing. "All right," he said. "Has she told you anything else?"

"No," Sheik shook his head. "Wasn't told to bring a response back either."

"Of course she wouldn't tell you to," Kafei muttered. "All right, we'll need someone to man this spot, and—"

The sound of wood splitting and cracking deafened them, the massive doors that had kept them safe so far crashing to the floor, followed by hundreds of footsteps and shouting voices, triumphant in their charge into the keep.

"Shit," Ayla muttered. "Right, change of plan. Shoot until we're out of bullets, _then_ pull back!"

There was not time to debate. Through the holes, Sheik spotted the first flash of a metal breastplate as a soldier came around the corner, followed by the rest immediately after. The noise was absolutely stunning, hurting Sheik's ears.

"Get this gate open!" someone shouted, and the rest roared in confirmation. The portcullis began to creak and squeak in protest as the invaders began to pull and lift at it.

"That's our cue," Elenwe shouted, shoving the barrel of a pistol through the hole and pulling the trigger. Sheik barely heard it over the din. There was an outraged shout, and then the hunters let loose another barrage. Shot after shot was fired through the holes, ripping into the ranks of men on the other side.

Sheik peeked through the hole beside him, saw nothing but roiling movement on the other side. He stuck his own pistol through, and fired. Someone shrieked. Another blast, this time coming from the other side. The bullet slammed into the wall behind them, followed by several others.

"I think they've caught on to where we are!" Tira shouted, emptying her last pistol. "I'm out!"

"Me too!" Elenwe announced.

"And me!"

Kafei fired his one last bullet—blood spattered through the hole. "All right, we're done here! Pull back!"

They crawled beneath the holes and ducked into the corridor, out of sight of the portcullis. They climbed over the improvised barricades made of barrels and crates, not stopping until they reached the next hunter position. The hallway here was perfectly smooth, providing no other cover the barricades, luring the attackers into the open...right next to a container of powder. Not strong enough to tear the stone apart, but definitely a nasty surprise to anything soft and fleshy.

When Kafei continued, however, the rest looked at each other confused. "Where are you going, K?" Ayla asked, having grabbed one of the loaded rifles.

"To the main hall, and you four are coming with," he replied, indicating Sheik and the girls. "The rest of you, stay here and hold this position. Pull back when they get through."

"Yes, sir."

"Why are we going back to the main hall?" Sheik asked. "Does Impa have a plan?"

"She does, and we're part of it," Kafei confirmed. "We're going to prepare a nasty surprise for them in the basement."

"Why didn't we set up down there in the first place, then?" Tira said, looking back anxiously at the position they were leaving to it. "I mean, if that's where our last stand will be?"

"I don't pretend to know what she's thinking at the best of times," Kafei said irritably, not looking at them. "I'm not about to argue with her when she's liable to stab me in the throat for speaking out of turn."

"She wouldn't do that," Sheik said.

"Have you _seen_ her in the mornings, cousin?"

"Let's just get to it," Elenwe said, having remained remarkably silent throughout the exchange—she was usually the loudest of them in situations like these. "Finish, and get back in the fight, right?"

"Right."

They reached the main hall just as Mana was leading a group of lightly-wounded hunters and armed civilians to the closest position. Sheik blinked in confusion; what on earth had happened while he was gone. Half of Erd's face was covered in bloody bandages and there was a...was that Iteos' head? Above the mantelpiece?

_What the...?_

"No time to explain," Impa said, stepping in front of them. "All of you, this way."

Sheik couldn't help but notice that the group Impa was leading into the basement dungeons happened to not only include himself, but just about all the visitors as well, including Zelda, the twins, and...

Kaura was anything but pleased at being forced away from her patients, but Impa had simply herded her away with uncharacteristic harshness, even for her. He made to break away from the group, to demand an answer, but Kafei wrenched him back into line.

"What are you—"

"There's a plan," was all his cousin said. "Follow the plan."

Link threw him a confused look, which he could only answer with one of his own.

"I've prepared a little surprise for the bastards downstairs," Impa said, steering Kaura along the halls and down the stairs, as if expecting her to break away and sprint back to the wounded at any moment (not difficult to imagine, in Sheik's opinion). Kaura, in turn, had an iron grip on Tao's shoulder, who looked distinctly unhappy about the turn of events. "I need your help to execute it. Last line of defence, all that."

"Surely we could have made the main hall that line?" Tira asked, walking next to the princess. "We could cover the wounded..."

"Exactly," Kaura agreed.

"With any luck, they won't get that far. Like I said, it'll be the _last_ line of defence, the point where we make their victory a pyrrhic one. I need my best hunters on that."

"That doesn't make any sense—"Ayla tried, but Impa's glare shut her down.

"I am not interested in a discussion—I am _ordering_ you to do this."

In hindsight, that should have been what tipped Sheik off that something was wrong, but by then he'd noticed that Link's hands were covered in blood, and was silently questioning his lover what had happened. Lor came to the rescue, mumbling "Iteos" under his breath.

"What happened?" Sheik asked.

"He tried to kill Erd, Link stopped him," Lor explained, nodding towards the bandage-wrapped twin. "Just in time, too."

"I leave for twenty minutes, and all hell breaks loose," Sheik said, bumping Link's shoulder with his own. "Luck's not on our side, is it?"

"No such thing as luck," Elenwe muttered.

_We make our own,_ Sheik finished, recalling the phrase she used so often.

By now, the sounds of fighting upstairs could be heard behind them. Echoes of gunshots and screams. Sheik longed to turn on his heels and run back up, joining the others in repelling the attackers...but no, his aunt had a plan.

It involved the lowest dungeon level, apparently, as she led them into one of the bigger storage rooms. At the end, by the back wall, lay a pile of supply packs, as well as a sizeable cache of powder barrels. There was a lever by the door, but it didn't seem to be connected to anything in the room itself.

"That panel," Impa said, pointing at the wooden panelling covering the wall. "Move it aside. The rest of you fetch the packs and gunpowder. Move it, we're running out of time."

Wilful ignorance. Sheik would later call it that. Or perhaps he'd simply had too much faith in his aunt's ability to plan ahead. He'd ignored the signs, or perhaps not even noticed them, too focused on ensuring the rest of his companions were all right so far. Had he paid a little more attention, he would have seen Impa's actions for what they were—a last resort, fuelled by desperation. Perhaps even love, or whatever twisted version of it she felt.

They heard the contraption before they saw it. There was a loud click, followed by a clang. Sheik was just about to lift one of the barrels, just in time to turn around and watch as the gate with the thick bars crash down behind them, effectively cutting the room in half, trapping them on the wrong side. Behind the gate, Impa took her hand off the lever.

"Master? What are you doing?" Ayla asked, looking as confused as Sheik felt, her voice eerily loud in the oppressive silence left behind by the gate closing.

"I saw no other way," Impa said with an apologetic shrug. "And you wouldn't agree if I told you about it."

"What are you talking about? Impa!" Sheik grabbed at the bars, realising the bars were too solid and close together for him to squeeze through. Not even Tao would be able to slip between them. "What is this?!"

"Kafei," Impa said, ignoring him. "The panel?"

"Almost got it," Kafei replied, still working at the panelling with his knife. With a crack, it came free and crashed to the floor, kicking up dust. A gaping hole in the wall lay behind it, cold air flowing forth from it. "This it?" Kafei asked, glaring at her.

"That's it," Impa said, nodding. "Just follow the map, and you'll be fine."

"Impa, what is this?" Zelda asked, marching up to stand beside Sheik, giving her former bodyguard the firmest stare Sheik had seen. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you a chance to escape," Impa said matter-of-factly. "Ascal, Emory, whatever his name is, came all this way for the two of you. Juichi, Kiro, Hafthor, Dane, everyone...they all died because of him. Call me spiteful, but I've no intention of making it easier for him...even if it means the end of the Studio. That hole leads into a tunnel network beneath the mountain...Kafei knows the way."

The gravity of what was happening hit Sheik then, and he could only shake his head as he realised what Impa was planning to do. "No...no, you can't do this! I'm not leaving!"

"I can, and you will," Impa said, still perfectly calm.

"The hell we are," Ayla said, coming up beside him and gripping the bars of the gate. "All of you, grab it and lift—it can't be that heavy!"

"It's heavy enough," Impa said, walking towards a crate and kicking it open, retrieving another barrel of powder, which she placed by one of the support beams. Sheik spotted a faint line running through it—intentionally weakened. "You won't be able to lift it without some leverage, which you won't find in there. Besides, this blast will collapse the room—if you want to survive, I suggest you head into the tunnel." She placed a fuse into the barrel's tap. "I'd say you have about thirty seconds, give or take. I'd grab the packs—should last you long enough to get to the safe house."

Her eyes met Sheik's, and there was nothing in them but firm resolve. She had been planning this for some time, then.

"The others..." Sheik said.

"Are gladly giving their lives for yours," she said. "Don't make light of their sacrifices by dying down here, nephew."

"You...you are such a...a..."

"Monster?" Impa suggested. "I don't disagree. For what it's worth, I did try to find a different solution...but Iteos ensured we ran out of alternatives. Now, we don't have much time—I suggest you get going." She lit a match and held it to the end of the fuse, which sparked to life and quickly began closing in on the barrel. "I have never been one for long goodbyes, so...it has been an honour, and a pleasure. All of you...farewell, and good luck."

Sheik found his feet cemented to the floor, even as the others scrambled into action behind him. He couldn't move, only stare at his aunt's back as she opened the door and stepped through it, the fuse casting bright light that reflected off the tip of her cane.

"Oh, and nephew..."

He blinked, finding her looking back at him, a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile on her lips.

"You are more than worthy of the name—you always were."

The door slammed shut, and she was gone. The fuse still burned, and yet he could not move. He barely even noticed Link lifting him and throwing him over his shoulder, running into the darkness of the tunnel—he only became aware that he was screaming when his throat began to hurt, like knives were cutting through it.

There was a boom, and the entire tunnel shook. Link tripped, tumbling to the floor. Sheik saw the ground surging up...and everything went black.

* * *

Impa had to pause for a moment after the blast, clutching at the wall, listening as tons of rock and dirt collapsed into the room behind her, where she'd left them. It was the only way. She and the other senior hunters had discussed it to death, and this was the only viable solution. It was necessary; it had to be done. For their survival. All of them...especially Sheik.

Worthy of the name...of all the things she could have chosen to say to him at their parting...ridiculous. He deserved to hear so much more than that. There was so much she had neglected to tell him over the years...perhaps out of spite? Because he insisted on being so difficult, even when she attempted to fulfil his wish, to be worthy of bearing the name his sister had once been given.

She winced as another blast rocked the foundations of the fortress. Another position had fallen, enacting their last resort. Collapsing strategic parts of the fortress halls, making it practically impossible for the invaders to penetrate the keep any further.

She focused on the pain, on the anger, on the hate. For them, for him, for herself. She should have continued hunting the vampire, never relenting until he was dead in front of her, like he had been in front of Sheik. She shouldn't have forgotten, shouldn't have let herself rest. _That_ was a lesson she wished she could have imparted on the next clan leader, on the next master.

Never let your guard down.

Not cheerful, but useful. At least it would have been some sort of legacy— _some_ form of wisdom to leave behind. As it were, a ruined keep and a large amount of dead bodies was all she'd leave behind.

She reached the main hall in due time, finding it empty save for one hunter. He'd lost his leg in the blast that breached the wall—torn off at the knee. Kaura had been unable to do anything for him. Had suggested to put him to sleep, but he'd refused. His breaths were shallow, but his eyes—forest green, the likes of which was normal in Lumina—lit up as he spotted her.

"The others," he said between gasps. "Went to die on their own terms."

Impa nodded. "I see..." In truth, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Those who chose this life were not the type of people who wanted to die bedridden. Even Ramsay, who'd had a hole in his head, had gone to join the fighting.

"Master..." the hunter said, his breaths growing shallower. His eyes were dulling, his skin pale.

She took his hand, gripping it tightly. "Jace," she answered, as if her saying his name would have any effect. Maybe it was just to assure him that he had mattered to her, that she'd bothered remembering his name. "It's been a privilege."

He tried to speak again, but his strength was failing him. She leaned down, kissing his forehead...like she should have done with Sheik, when he was younger. Jace stilled beneath her, and his last breath came out as a rattle, his entire body relaxing, finally releasing the tension of life.

"A privilege," she repeated, closing his eyes.

Another boom. Another post fallen. How many dead, now? On both sides? Too many. Even one was too many.

"Should have killed you when I had the chance," she muttered, glaring at the head of Iteos on the mantelpiece. "Miserable rat...I hope Bob had fun with you."

"Who's Bob?"

She closed her eyes, steeling herself. His voice hadn't changed at all. Still smooth, with a cheerful tone that belied his being and the current state of things. Turning, she found Emory—Ascal, now—standing at the top of the stairs at the back end of the hall, flanked by a dour-looking man. They were both wearing hunter leathers—slightly out of date. They'd raided on the caches, then.

The vampire was smiling at her, looking positively amused, even more so when he spotted Iteos' head.

"Nice decoration," he said. "Very festive. Have you come up with a new holiday since I left?"

"Yes," she said, not moving. The longer she could drag this out, the longer the others would have to make their escape. That is, if Kafei had actually memorised the map. "The celebration of your return."

He put a hand on his chest, looking delighted. "Oh, you shouldn't have."

"I even got you a present, but your little compatriot up there—"she jerked her head towards Iteos—"got to him first. Such a nasty way to die, chewed to pieces by a lycan."

"It gets even better," he said, laughing. "I _thought_ there was a familiar smell in the air, but I didn't dare think that a Master Hunter would actually bring a beast within their own walls. Your recklessness exceeds even that of your mother—"

"Do not speak of her," Impa hissed. "You have no right, murderer."

He sighed. "As I expected."

That was puzzling, but then he descended into the hall, motioning for his lackey to stay, pausing by a dead hunter, long since expired from her injuries. "Such a waste, this," he said solemnly. "I didn't want things to escalate this far, but...I could not afford a prolonged siege. If you had only handed them over when Dane asked—"

"What kind of creature expects one to hand over their family like that—"

"A pragmatic one," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Two lives for, what...fifty? Sixty? The numbers alone—"

"Life can't be reduced to numbers!"

He laughed at that, as if she was a child. Like he _had_ when she _was_ a child, enjoying her naivety. Had he been genuine, even then, or had he simply hid the beastly side of himself too well for anyone to notice?

"My dear girl," he said, still chuckling. "Live for as long as I have, and _everything_ can be reduced to numbers. Sometimes, numbers are the only thing that makes sense in this world. Perhaps it is cruel, speaking as plainly as I did, but it is still the truth. Two lives are not equal to fifty."

"It is when it's the lives of my nephew and the princess of Hyrule," she said through gritted teeth, refusing to be swayed by his words.

"Emotional attachment and sentiment—base instincts. Useless in the long run, when the stakes are the continued survival of your people." He shook his head. "But I can't expect you to understand that—you're much too young, still."

She gritted her teeth, wanting nothing more than to plant a steel ball in the base of his skull, but forced herself to remain calm. It was a matter of time. Further down the hall, the sounds of fighting reached a crescendo, and another blast shook the walls.

"Standard siege plans," he said. "When all else fails, bury the enemy beneath the rubble. Risky."

"I'd rather kill us all than have them fall into your hands," she said.

"Too late for that, dear girl," he said. "I'm already inside, remember? All I have to do is find whatever miserable dungeon you've stowed them in." He took another step towards her.

She drew the sword from her cane fluidly with one hand, and the _kukri_ strapped to her thigh with the other, blocking his path. "And what makes you think I'll let you?" she snarled.

Again, he only smiled. It was infuriating, that disgustingly happy grin. His henchman didn't seem too bothered by this either, remaining calm at his perch. "Impa," he said gently. "I've seen the limp. You've no chance."

"Try me," she challenged.

"It would be like tripping a blind man—I'd rather not. Kindly step aside. I might even take you out of here, make sure at least _you_ survive—"

"You talk too much!"

The limp was all too real—the pain a constant companion. The mace had done immeasurable damage to her knee—breaking it. But she'd persevered—for him. And it gave her an excuse for practice what the Sheikah had always excelled at—deception.

She surged forward, faster than her exaggerated limp should have allowed. The same speed had surprised Sheik not even a day before—and it surprised the vampire. His eyes widened slightly as she closed in quicker than he'd anticipated, barely able to twist out of the way of her blades. One caught his cheek, which opened up and bled freely.

She didn't relent, didn't let him catch his footing, continuing to harry him further along the steps, swiping and cutting at his form. His initial surprise was soon tampered by another smile, and she could swear that he was laughing at her.

She growled and continued attacking, finishing a flurry with a vicious kick towards his middle. He jumped out of the way, landing with his back to the fireplace, illuminating him in the strangest way, like tendrils of shadow was creeping from his form...

He gave a heavy sigh. "I didn't want this," he repeated, his voice lowering until it seemed to reverberate with the stone. "But I see now you are just like the rest of your kind—stubborn to the point of suicide. Far be it for me to deny you that."

In a fluid movement, he drew a _kukri_ almost identical to her own, and a long, slender fencing blade with the other.

"Come on, then, uncle," she said, already charging at him. "Show me what you've got!"

She aimed a thrust at his gut, which he easily parried with his blade and countered with a swipe of his _kukri_ that would have opened her neck if she hadn't ducked beneath it, swiping her own at his exposed knee. He stepped out of the way, and struck down with the fencing blade. She felt it bite into her shoulder, but not nearly deep enough to cause damage.

She let it cut, using her momentum to carry her forward and smack her head into his chin. He grunted and was thrown backwards, and she was able to graze his thigh with her cane sword. His trouser leg split open, and blackish blood oozed from the shallow wound.

Ascal only remained still for a fraction of a second before he went on the offensive, striking at her with both blades alternatively, forcing her backwards with each attack, step by step. The back of her knees collided with a chair, caused her lose balance.

She let herself fall, turning into a backwards roll that quickly had her back on her feet. She hooked her blade into the back of the chair and flung it at him. He swiped it out of the air, hurling it into the corner where it splintered into a million pieces.

She shouted a war cry in the Sheikah tongue, one cursing Ascal and his line back for a hundred generations, choosing a different approach. Mounting a long table, she kicked a jug of cleansing spirits directly at him. He tried to smack it out of the air, hit it with the flat of his sword, causing it to explode and rain shards of glass and stinging alcohol onto his face.

Making use of the distraction, she jumped forwards, rolling as she landed and aimed a thrust of her sword at his gut. He twisted aside, but the sword still found a mark, sinking into his hip, scraping against bone. He screamed, smashing the handle of his _kukri_ into the side of her head.

She landed on her back, momentarily disorientated, saw Ascal's shape lifting its leg in her blurry view—

His boot came down on her ruined knee with the force of a sledgehammer, and she didn't even hear the snap—white-hot pain blocking out all sounds and other senses. She must have screamed—her throat certainly stung.

But she refused to stop moving—her leg was numb, and the rest of her body wasn't complying like it should, but she kept hold of her weapons; swung wildly in all directions, intending to at least keep him at bay until her vision cleared and her wits returned.

Gradually, the white faded, leaving her with the black and gold of the main hall, only lit by candles and the fireplace. Ascal was standing a few feet away, looking at her with a pitying expression. She snarled and tried to get closer, tried to continue attacking, but she couldn't move...

"I apologise," Ascal said once he was sure she could actually hear him. "This is why I didn't want to engage—it's too easy to use cheap tricks like that." He held out his arms widely, leaving his front unprotected. "Come on, one more chance."

He was taunting her. She recognised it. She'd lost the fight at this point, her leg ruined beyond all recognition. Too bad her mother had never taught her about giving up. Breathing heavily, she tried to crawl closer to him, biting down the howls of agony that threatened to spill from her lips whenever her knee brushed against the stone floor. Ascal looked mildly impressed through the blurred screen that obscured her eyes, standing perfectly still as she approached.

Swords were useless now, but her pistol...the one tucked into her waistband at her back, under the coat...if she could only get close enough for a clear shot...

Ascal took a single step forwards, bringing him within range of her sword. "Come on," he whispered. "Do it."

That encouraging tone, the one she'd heard so many times before when she was a child, aimed at her, made everything snap, and she shrieked as she aimed a thrust directly at his chest, where his miserable excuse for a heart would be.

Something struck her in the back, exiting out her front, blood splattering all over Ascal's coat as his eyes widened, much like her own. All strength left her body, and she fell. He dropped his blades and caught her, holding her up, his hand covering oozing wound in the middle of her chest. For a moment, everything went dark, and then Ascal was glaring in the direction the shot had come from.

"My father is avenged."

She turned her head to look to the voice, finding Rane, bloodied and dirtied from the fighting and covered in soot, flanked by several of his men, a smug grin on his lips.

"The hunters are all dead," he said, stepping closer, his men remaining behind. "This was the last one."

"This was my fight," Ascal said, his voice strangely gentle as he tried to stem the bleeding in Impa's chest. Futile. She could feel every beat of her heart draining her dry. Her breaths came in short gasps, like Jace's. "You had no right to interfere." He aimed a glare in Rane's direction.

"You were going to let her kill you," Rane protested, unable to believe he was being berated for saving his ally's life. It almost made Impa laugh. She could still move her arm...slightly...and she was close enough, now... "I had to do something!"

"You denied her an honourable death," Ascal said quietly, voice suddenly icy. "Arthur."

So that was his lackey's name. All Impa could hear was another gunshot, and a sharp gasp. Rane fell to his knees, clutching a gushing hole in his throat, eyes wide open with shock. For a moment, the entire room fell silent save for Rane's gurgling...and then chaos ensued. His men tried screamed and shouted, some loosing shots at their supposed allies.

Her fingers found what she'd looked for, and Ascal felt the movement, looking down.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and she levelled her gun at her target, not even hesitating to pull the trigger. It struck home, the barrel of gunpowder immediately hissing and sputtering as the contents caught fire.

"I win," she whispered as the barrel exploded, igniting the rest of the Studio's supply of powder with it. Even Ascal couldn't resist smiling at that, before everything went blindingly white...and then dark.


	59. The Parting

She forced her eyes shut, clenching her jaw until she felt the beats of her heart in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins. With every wet thump, with every pained moan or whimper, she flinched. The sounds were muffled by the door, but there was no mistaking what went on behind it. She thanked the gods that she wasn't on the other side...and then guilt ate at her for even thinking it. He hadn't done anything to deserve this. Neither of them had.

A slight chuckle from behind her made her jump. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, attached to the chair with a solid chain. The first thing she'd tried when they'd forced her into it was testing the strengths of both the chain and the chair, and was disappointed to find that she would not be breaking free anytime soon.

She forced herself to still as a pair of ice-cold fingers brushed along her jaw, tucking a loose lock of blonde hair behind her pointed ear with deceptive gentleness. Another hand landed on her shoulder, a presence Nikal would not acknowledge by looking at her looming at her ear.

"Are you listening?" the vampire's voice asked quietly, almost a whisper. There was a trace of dark amusement to her words. "My men are having a lot of fun with your friend right now."

As a punctuation, Eren gave an agonised scream from the other room, which was followed by roaring laughter from the vampire's men. Nikal clenched until she saw stars, ignoring the cold hands that tried to keep her attention firmly grounded in the present.

"You can end it, you know," the vampire continued. "Right now. All you have to do is tell me what you were looking for in the blood-eye's office."

The hands began to play with her hair, braiding it. The monster had a habit of doing that, as if she was restless whenever her hands weren't occupied.

"We...we weren't looking for anything," Nikal said, her throat sore from the cold air in the basement. "We were hiding—"

"Don't lie to me," the vampire said, her tone still calm, but gaining an icy edge. "We kept the building under surveillance for weeks—you only returned after visiting this mansion. What did you return for? Information, perhaps? Locations of hunter safe houses? I would certainly appreciate an overview of those. I have a kingdom to keep safe from those _butchers_ , after all..."

Eren screamed again, but this one was cut off midway by a wet cough, which was soon drowned out by more laughter and jeers from the men.

"How many sessions of this has he endured so far, do you think?" the vampire asked, undoing the braid she was working on and starting over, increasing the intricacy. Her breaths ghosted over Nikal's cheek, as cold as her skin. "Once a day, at least."

Two, Nikal mentally corrected her. Some of the men returned in the evenings. They never touched Nikal, presumably because their mistress had threatened death to anyone who laid a hand on her, but Eren was fair game.

"How long can he last? He is such a small boy—a runt, really. Your master has trained him well, but...even he has his limits. I can only hope that someone—you _or_ he—realises I won't stop this until I have what I want...and if there is one thing I have a lot of these days, it's time." The vampire stilled her movements for a second, thinking, before humming and resuming her work. "As for patience...well, that is another story entirely. I might even be tempted to, say, increase the number of sessions per day, or prolonging them if I do not have what I want by the end of this one."

She tied off the braid and moved to crouch in front of Nikal, looking up at her with an impassive face. Nikal refused to look at her, turning her face away until those freezing fingers gripped her chin and forced her to look back.

"Such a pretty face...such beautiful hair...it would be a shame to waste you on _them_ ," she said, jerking her head towards the door. "But...if that is what it takes...oh well, that won't be an issue until _he_ breaks or dies, of course. I wonder how he feels about this, about how your stubbornness is what keeps his agony from ending."

Nikal said nothing, glaring into the vampire's amber eyes, trying to convey all her hatred and wishes of pain upon her. A small smile tugged at the corner of the vampire's mouth. She'd be a beautiful woman, had she not been a blood-drinking monster, Nikal thought.

Her silence drew another sigh from the vampire, who shook her head as well. "As annoying as your defiance is, I'm also impressed. There's a ruthlessness to you, girl. It doesn't matter how much pain and suffering I inflict on your friend; you still won't give in. It reminds me of...well, me."

"I am nothing like you," Nikal spat. "I'm not a glorified _leech_!"

The vampire's eyes widened at that, her fingers curling like claws. Nikal closed her eyes again, expecting a vicious strike.

But it never came.

Instead, the vampire laughed. Loudly. With snorts. "Haha...heh...that...that is a _good_ one...I'll be using that, if you don't mind!"

Nikal opened her mouth to respond, but the monster's face was suddenly inched from her own, eyes staring directly into hers. Cold hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs stroking gently.

"Hmph, as much as it pains me to admit, I _like_ you, girl," she said. "You've guts, and spirit. You're just like me..." She leaned to the side, sniffing slightly at Nikal's neck, causing shivers of disgust to run through the girl's body. "You're too immature for _that_ just yet...but in the meantime, I might keep you for a donor. It'll keep you docile and obedient..."

Nikal's breath hitched in her throat. She wasn't suggesting...

...was she?

The toothy grin she received was all the confirmation she needed. "It doesn't hurt, you know...or, not much, at least. Some even find it quite pleasurable, as my young lord will surely confirm if you ask him...if I ever let him out of his chambers again, that is."

The monster didn't let go, merely turning her head when the door opened and a man stepped out. He was red-faced and sweaty, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Small spatters of blood dotted the front of the pristine white of his shirt.

"He's out, mistress," he said, slightly out of breath.

"Again? Avi, just what are you doing to him in there?" the vampire asked, sounding annoyed.

"Not much stamina left in 'im," Avi replied, shrugging.

"Did he say anything?"

"Lips sealed shut...mostly." He couldn't stop himself from grinning at that, and Nikal wished she could have but a mere minute with him at her mercy. He'd regret everything he'd ever done when she was done with him. "What about the girl?" he continued.

"Not yet," the vampire replied, turning her attention back to Nikal with another grin. "I have some other methods I'd like to try first...but I think I'll give her some time to consider my offer. One night should be enough. If she says no, you can have her."

"Lookin' forward to it."

"Fetch the boy—he can stay with her. Let her see what they're bringing upon themselves."

Avi nodded, and the vampire leaned closer to whisper into Nikal's ear once more: "Think long and hard on what I have said, girl. Accept, and I might even let your little friend live. I hear boys like him are quite valuable on the southern markets."

Nikal spat her in the face, unable to stop herself. It didn't even faze the monster, who only grinned again and ruffled Nikal's hair before standing up and leaving the basement with a flourish of her coat.

A moment later Avi returned, dragging Eren's unconscious body into the room, dumping him unceremoniously on the pile of straw that had served as Nikal's bed for the past week. As he turned to leave, Nikal cleared her throat.

"Aren't you going to unchain me?" she asked, shaking her chained hands for emphasis. "They hurt..."

"You think those are bad?" Avi asked, grinning sadistically, the lines on his face wrinkling unpleasantly. "Just wait until I get my hands on you, _Nik_." He fished out a key from his pocket, waving it in front of her face. "I think a night in the chair will be good for you—give you some time to think about the mistress' offer." He put the key back in his pocket and strode out of the basement, locking the door behind him while whistling a jaunty tune.

"Bastard," Nikal muttered under her breath before turning her attention to Eren. She could barely see his legs, her neck stretching painfully as she tried to catch sight of him. "Eren?" she said. "Can you hear me?"

No reaction, but his laboured breathing told her he was still alive, at least. It was of little comfort. At least they'd left him in his underwear, to preserve _some_ measure of his dignity.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Eren...it's my fault you're...they're doing this to you..." Her sight blurred as tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her stomach roiled painfully, from nausea and hunger, and everything just...it was hopeless.

If only Master Sheik hadn't left...he'd have this cleaned up in no time. Was he even still alive? Had the leech caught to and killed them all? Killed Lor, Link, and the princess too? If not...did he even know what was happening here?

She hung her head, sobbing.

And that bitch...she'd offered to...to make her into a...a...

She couldn't bear the thought, neither of becoming a vampire like her, or being kept as a donor until she'd _matured_ , whatever that meant. She shook her head at the thought, as if it'd help banishing the very idea from her mind, but it kept revolving and revolving relentlessly. What was even that sort of life like? Cursed, surely...doomed to suck b...blood to survive?

She'd rather die. She wanted to die _now_...both of them...to end what they were doing to Eren...what they'd do to _her_ if she said no to the monster's offer...

She must have fallen asleep. The candle had burned down, throwing the small room into pitch darkness. Behind her, she heard sniffling. She coughed, and the sounds stilled. "Er?" she asked, throat sorer than ever. Her nose was clogged with snot—disgusting.

"Nik?" Eren asked, his voice so small, so...hurt. "You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she replied, relief welling up in her to hear that he was awake, at least. She shook her hands to make the chain clatter. "Cuffed to the chair. You all right?"

There was a long moment of silence in which all she could hear was Eren's breathing and attempts to stop sniffling. Then: "...no."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Er," she said. "I—"

"They've learned from us, Nik," Eren cut her off, gasping as he moved on the straw. His voice was choked with agony. "They...heh...they must've found the one we...interrogated...saw what we did to 'im..."

"What are you...?" Nikal trailed off, realising what he was talking about, and gasped. "They..."

"My hand...pulled the nails..."

"Eren!"

"I didn't talk!" he said with a gasp. "I didn't say a damn thing! And you'd better not have said anything either!"

She bit her tongue, taking a deep breath and trying to ignore that he was still crying. "I didn't," she said. "And I won't. I promise."

"Good," he said. "I can't move...too tired..."

"Then don't," Nikal said, grateful he'd made her decision so easy.

She wouldn't make his suffering in vain...or let them make him a slave. She'd gladly suffer along with him, and die when neither of them gave in. The Sheik would return, and show them just why the hunters and the Sheikah are not someone to pick a fight with!

"Just...rest," she continued. "I'll make them take me tomorrow."

"No," he said. "Let them take me...maybe they'll kill us quicker that way..."

"I'm not having this discussion with you," she said, almost smiling at the familiar back-and-forth. Too stubborn for their own good, the two of them. "They're taking me, and that's final."

"Bugger you, it's me," he retorted.

"Eren, I swear to—"

There was a click of a lock, and the door suddenly opened. There was no light in the corridor outside, and only a single person stepped inside, quickly closing it behind themselves. They were breathing heavily, and there was a metallic click as something was put on the floor. The clattering of wood, and a creak. A match flared up briefly, so bright it blinded her. The flame flickered as it made contact with a lantern, which was quickly adjusted to bathe most of the room in a gentle, orange light. Nikal glared at the newcomer.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"Be quiet," Lord Camdessus hissed, holding a finger to his lips. "The guards might be back any moment."

She maintained her narrowed gaze at him, not trusting the bastard in the slightest.

The nob moved forward, looking first at her, and then at Eren...at which point his face paled. "Goddesses...your hand..."

"Your men's handiwork," Nikal said.

"Not my men," Camdessus said, looking offended at that. "I told you, they're Dehl's."

"Doesn't matter whose," Eren said with a groan, sounding just as angry with him as Nikal was. "Still your house."

"That's why I'm here," Camdessus said, looking anything but determined. He had a pack slung around his shoulder. "I'm here to get you out."

Nikal snorted. "That's odd, after sending the vamp after us—"

"I didn't send her," he nearly shouted, catching himself and lowering his voice. "You were spotted leaving the grounds—they followed you. I didn't find out about you until later...after you were brought here..."

"Convenient," Eren muttered.

Camdessus groaned, but then moved behind Nikal's chair, fiddling with something. She was about to tell him it was useless, that nothing would break the chain or cuffs...and then the lock clicked, and the pressure around her wrists released. Her hands stung as the circulation returned, the nerves coming back to life.

"Here," he said, offering her a hand. To her own surprise, she took it. Her legs were wobbly, having fallen asleep after sitting still for so long. He held her up, hands uncertain and awkward. She noticed that he'd tied a scarf around his neck—why? Then it hit her. He was a donor...and probably not willingly. She waited until she felt confident in her own ability to stand before pushing his away...and slapped him as hard as she could.

Camdessus reared back, looking shocked as he touched the spot, which was rapidly growing red in the torchlight. "You...you..." he stammered.

"That was for everything you've done," she hissed. "This is your fault—all of it! You and that other vamp of yours!"

She'd expected him to argue, to shift the blame, but he only nodded. "Yes, it is. I was...consumed by my desire to save Hyrule, and agreed to...questionable tactics. But this...I never wanted any of this." He shifted the pack off his shoulder and handed it to her. "Here."

"What's this?" she asked, refusing to take it.

"Clothes and food," he replied. "Enough to get last you a few weeks. Get out of the city, and out of Hyrule, as fast as you can. Warn the hunters, if possible. It's too late to stop them here, but your master or...or Ascal can make it here, they could put an end to it."

Nikal sceptically took the pack and opened it, verifying its contents. Clothes and food, as he'd said. The clothes were a little too big for them, but they were better than their underclothes. Rolled into a red jacket was a loaded pistol. She picked it up and pointed it at him. "Why shouldn't I kill you right here, right now?" she asked.

He sighed, lowering his head. "No moral reason," he said. "I deserve it—but if you shoot me now, you'll draw the attention of every guard in the mansion, and on the grounds. You'll never make it out then."

She knew he was right, and as much as she was tempted to pull the trigger, she made herself put the weapon back in the pack. Instead, she withdrew a pair of trousers, a shirt, and jacket, turning to Eren...and froze.

He was covered in bruises and cuts of every size. One of his eyes were swollen shut, the skin around it a patchwork of blue and black. Blood had congealed in the corners of his mouth, and his clenched jaw revealed at least a pair of missing teeth. His left hand was covered in blood, his fingernails gone. Brutally removed with pliers...just like she had to that man...

"Lie still, Er," she told him, carefully lifting his legs and pulling the trousers onto them.

"I can dress myself," he protested, but it seemed just thinking about moving hurt for him at the moment.

"I'm surprised you can even talk right now," she muttered. "Lift your arse."

Despite his protests, he let her dress him. As she buttoned up the jacket, he rested his forehead on her shoulder, breathing heavily.

"I wanted to die," he whispered. "When...when they—"

"I know," she whispered back, kissing his cheek. "But we'll get out. We always do. And then Master will come back...and he'll kill them all."

"I hope he does."

"He _will_."

After dressing Eren, Nikal put on a change of clothes from the pack herself. They were baggy and bulky, but they were warm, at least. The coat dragged along the floor, and she felt quite ridiculous.

Camdessus was lingering by the door, looking awkward.

"What are you waiting for?" Nikal asked. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your study for cigars and brandy?"

He swallowed, looking uncertain. "I wanted to ensure you got out safely..."

"We'll be fine, bugger off." She turned to Eren and lifted him up, putting his arm over her shoulder. He groaned, but did his best to support his own weight...which did little to help. She hadn't eaten for days, and there wasn't a lot of strength left in her.

Camdessus seemed to agree for a moment as he turned to the door, but then he paused, brows furrowing. He then turned back to them with a serious look and marched over. "Here, give him to me."

"What?" she asked. "No, I—"

"You can barely cope with your own weight right now, much less his. Let me carry him outside, at least."

She tried to pull away, to put herself between Eren and Camdessus, but that nearly caused her to lose her balance and make them both crash to the floor. Camdessus made an annoyed sound and took Eren, lifting him bridal style and giving Nikal a look.

"At this pace you will be spotted before reaching the ground floor," he said. "Come on."

Hating that he was right, Nikal slung the pack over her shoulder and followed Camdessus as he opened the door. They left the lantern behind, and as the door was closed behind them, they were once again in utter darkness.

"This way."

Camdessus' whisper had a strange echo-like quality to it thanks to the vaulted stone corridor. Nikal had no choice but to follow him closely, knowing nothing of the basement's layout—she'd been unconscious when they were brought here, as was Eren.

"Where are the guards?" she asked, certain that the vampire would have had her men posted at every corner of the mansion to ensure no one could get in or out without someone noticing. There wasn't a soul down here apart from them, and she didn't like it at all. It was...too easy.

"I arranged a little distraction in the street outside," Camdessus said, leading the way expertly through the basement. "Most of them are busy attending to that. The rest...well, they're otherwise occupied."

"What'd you do?" Eren asked.

"Paid some, drugged the rest," Camdessus replied. "Dehl easily forgets what mercenaries are ultimately loyal to, despite her best attempts at rooting them out."

"Just throw money at the problem till it goes away, huh? Typical," Nikal muttered.

"Whatever works, as my father used to say," Camdessus said. "Up here." They ascended a narrow staircase that twisted around and terminated in a door. "Be completely quiet—I don't know whether they've cleared the street or not."

"And the vamp?" Eren inquired.

"Asleep."

"Vampires sleep?"

"They do after feeding," Camdessus said, shifting uncomfortably. Nikal couldn't see it in the dark, but she remembered the scarf. "Most of the time, at least."

He didn't give them time for follow-up questions as he opened the door. Nikal was blinded for the second time by the gaslights, despite how reduced they were for the evening. Camdessus gestured to the right, and she closed the door quietly behind them.

To the left, towards what Nikal assumed was the main entrance, she could hear shouting and arguing, presumably from the distraction Camdessus had arranged.

It was almost too easy, but a minute or so later they were in the snowy yard behind the Camdessus mansion, racing past buried flowerbeds and frozen shrubberies, towards the back wall. A wrought iron gate, meant for deliveries and staff, was set in the wall. Usually well-guarded, Nikal saw no one watching it...as well as the fact that it was open. Even the street lamp was unlit, covering it under shadow.

"Bribed the cook they hired to leave it open when she left tonight," Camdessus explained, panting. Reaching the gate, Camdessus carefully put Eren down, letting him rest his weight against Nikal again. "Can you make it on your own from here?" he asked.

"Yes, we can," Nikal said, unsure if she should be thanking him or not. On one hand, he was the root cause of all this, but he had also helped them. She gave him a curt "Thanks", and made to leave, but Eren stopped her.

"Come with us," he said, surprising both her and Camdessus, whose eyes widened comically. Nikal nearly dropped Eren, but he held on, giving her a look.

"W-What?" Camdessus asked. "I can't—"

"They'll know it was you," Eren said, coughing. "If the vamp doesn't kill you, she sure as hell won't let you move about freely anymore. You'll be kept in the basement, like us. Is that what you want?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Besides, you might give our plans away."

"But I don't know—"

"And when Master finds out about this, you'll need us to stop him from killing you."

"Eren, what are you—"Nikal began, but he cut her off.

"And she needs you to enact her own, right? Win-win, coming with us."

Camdessus looked doubtful. "I do not think this is a good idea—"

"Besides," Eren continued, levelling the pistol he'd given them at his head (when had he taken it from the pack?), "I'll kill you if you don't agree. Without you, she can't do anymore damage to Hyrule...and either way works for me."

Nikal looked between them, unsure of what to do. She would definitely not mind it if Eren killed him, but that'd give their position away.

"You'll get caught if you kill me," Camdessus said, his voice trembling.

"I don't care what happens to me, and Nik can outrun any of them," Eren said. "So what'll it be, _my lord_?"

"We are wasting time," Camdessus tried, to which Eren only nodded, grimacing as it clearly caused him more pain.

"We are."

Camdessus looked back to his mansion, hearing the shouts of the vampire's men, and then at her. Nikal wondered if he was truly willing to go back to that, after all this. Would he be willing to leave it all behind in exchange for a modicum more safety? She didn't like it. She didn't want this man tagging along with them, but Eren...Eren clearly saw the value in keeping the lord alive. For now, at least. If there was one thing Nikal would always be sure about when it came to Eren, it was that she trusted him. So she gave him a slight nod and glared at Camdessus.

"Come along, nob, before I change my mind."

That seemed to be the last drop, and the young lord nodded. "I don't have a lot of money on me—"

"Won't need it, we've got supplies," Eren said, looking at Nikal. "Log street house?" he suggested. Nikal nodded.

"As good as any place, I suppose," she agreed, relishing the idea of retrieving some of her own clothes and a few more weapons, along with a stash of cash. "Come on."

Without saying anything, Camdessus took Eren from her again. "Lead the way," he said after settling Eren in his arms.

"Hope you're ready to run, my lord," she said. "We're going double-time."

Racing along the streets and ducking into alleys to avoid watch patrols, Nikal wondered why her life had suddenly gotten so complicated. It was almost enough to make her want to go back to living in a chicken coop...

* * *

His head hurt. A splitting headache that radiated from one temple to the other, and stretching all the way to the back, pulsating at the base of his skull. Sheik drew a sharp breath as he slowly came to, unprepared for the sheer pain of it. His mouth tasted like death, and his eyes felt like they were glued shut. At least he was lying on something soft... He gasped, trying to sit up, but his body refused to obey, barely shifting in place.

"You're awake, thank the Goddesses."

Kafei's voice...to his right? Sheik tried to open his eyes again, and was rewarded with a blurry view of the world, barely seeing a purple-ish shape looking down at him from the right.

"How...long...?" Sheik managed to utter.

"A day and a half," Kafei said gently, keeping his voice low. "You had us worried."

"Sorry...what happened...?"

Kafei cleared his throat, pausing slightly. He was uncomfortable. Sheik recognised the stalling tactic for what it was. What had he even done to end up like this? All he could remember was falling...

"You hit your head. Hard," Kafei said. "Barely managed to get you out in time. We dragged you to the old trading post. Kaura did what she could, but it was ultimately up to you to wake up..."

_Trading post?_ Sheik thought. _That's all the way down the mountain...how did we get there? And...why are...?_

Then it hit him. Impa sealing the gate behind them, wandering off to face Whiteridge and Ascal-Emory-Whatshisname on her own. His eyes widened, and he tried to sit up again, fighting his protesting body. Kafei pushed him back down, however, giving Sheik a firm look.

"Stay down, cousin," he said. "You're in no shape to be moving about just yet."

"We have to go back," Sheik groaned. "Have to help her—"

"We can't," Kafei said. "The tunnel collapsed behind us when Impa...when she...sprang her trap."

"Her trap?" Sheik was still trying to sit up, but even Kafei's gentle pressure on his chest was enough to hold him down. "What are you saying?"

Kafei's face crumpled slightly, looking anywhere but at him. "The powder she brought to the main hall...wasn't meant for fighting. It was a trap, meant to blow if the keep was breached. She...had no intention of leaving the Studio alive...nor for anyone else to, either. The blast was...immense. It must have destroyed the entire tunnel network—we barely made it out before it fell apart behind us. We can't go back, Sheik—the way is sealed. The only way back is over the mountain, and...we can't..."

Sheik searched Kafei's face for a single hint of a lie, for a possibility that his cousin was simply trying to keep him bedridden for his own sake, that there was still a chance that Impa was still alive, but...no, there was nothing but mourning in that face. Ice gripped his heart, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"They're...they're all...dead..." he muttered.

"Breathe, Sheik," Kafei reminded him gently, moving his hand to cup Sheik's cheek, forcing his cousin's eyes to meet his own. "Breathe with me..."

It took several minutes before Sheik managed to calm his breathing again, at which point he felt his eyes growing wet. Kafei wiped at the falling tears, making no comment about them.

"They gave their lives for ours," the older Sheikah muttered. "A sacrifice I did not want, but they made anyway."

"Why?" Sheik asked. "Why us?"

_Why me?_ he silently wondered.

"We were the youngest," Kafei said, clearly aware of what Sheik was thinking, based on the look he was giving him. "The others were injured or...older. Our people have always done this—during times of great danger, the clans have always taken steps to preserve the younger generations, even at the risk of their own lives. Impa simply followed the precedents set by her predecessors—"

"She had no right," Sheik spat. "She could have told—"

"And you would never have agreed to it, so she knew you couldn't be told," Kafei said, looking away. "None of you could."

Sheik stared at him, blinking. "You...knew?"

"I knew she was planning something big, that she was going to ensure our escape, but...I wasn't prepared for her taking the whole Studio with her. Perhaps it wasn't her plan, but that's what it became when the vampire showed up." He took something out of his pocket, holding it in his hand for a moment. "Should've realised what it meant when she gave me this."

He held it out for Sheik to see...and he gasped. "That's..."

Kafei regarded the gold earring with distaste. "I suppose I am the oldest Half Sun member alive now, unless we've some unknown cousins elsewhere in the world. Makes sense it'd come to me, but...I find that I do not want it."

"It doesn't matter," Sheik said, unable to take his eyes off the earring. He hadn't even noticed that Impa had taken it out... "You've been chosen."

"She would have picked you," Kafei said. "I know she would, but you're—"

"Too young, I know," Sheik said, letting his head fall back on his pillow, ignoring how the room seemed to be spinning. He felt...hollow. In the span of a single day, he'd lost...everything. His family, his home, his friends...he had so little left...

"Three years," Kafei said, cloth rustling as he put the earring away. "Three years, and it'll be yours."

Sheik looked up at him. "But you are—"

"I don't care," he said firmly. "I didn't want it then, and I don't want it now. I'll accept the clan leadership for the moment, but as soon as you're of age, it's yours."

Sheik licked his lips. They were dry and chapped. "Not that there's much left to lead," he said bitterly.

"There's always adoption," Kafei said with a mirthless chuckle.

There was a long moment of silence as the cousins tried to come to terms with the new reality of the world, and what had been torn from their grasp. Sheik looked at Kafei once more, making a noise to draw his attention.

"The others?" he asked.

"We all made it," Kafei said with a weak smile, the first he'd offered since Sheik had woken up. "The only one who got hurt was you—which was predictable, really."

"It's always me," Sheik agreed with a crooked grin. "...Link?"

"He's asleep," Kafei said. "He's been sitting with you since we arrived, but he was nodding off himself and I finally managed to persuade him to get some rest. He's in the other room."

Now that Sheik listened, he could hear muffled snoring coming from the other room. He instantly recognised the sound, and even that alone made him smile. Kafei mirrored it.

"Enjoy it now, cousin," he said. "You'll soon be cursing that racket at night."

"As long as he is all right, I do not care how much noise he makes."

"Glad to hear it," Kafei said with a grin. "As for the others...the twins and Lor are downstairs, sorting out the papers and research they managed to save, assisted by the princess. Kaura and Tira are keeping watch with Tao—I should probably let her know you're awake so she can do a check-up..."

Sheik grimaced at that.

"...and E and Ayla are out getting supplies from a hunter's lodge a few miles south of here."

"Supplies? Plenty here," Sheik said, referring to the trading post, one of the hunter safe houses.

"The only stuff we have here is long-lasting field rations and booze," Kafei said. "We'll need something a little more...filling for our trip."

"Trip? What trip?"

Kafei sighed and stood up. "Impa's last order was for us to escort Princess Zelda back to Hyrule, and that is exactly what we are going to do as soon as you're on your feet again." He held up a hand to stop Sheik from protesting. "We can't get back to the Studio until the spring thaws anyway, and we don't have the tools or manpower to clear the tunnel. I have no intention of staying here, either—it's too dangerous, and if someone finds out about our war with Whiteridge...well, hunters and Sheikah aren't exactly popular around here to begin with. So, we're going to Hyrule, and that is final. If you will not obey my orders as clan leader, I can only hope you will honour Impa's last request."

There was no room for argument here, and Sheik could only give an affirmative grunt, as much as he wanted to argue for staying here until spring and then marching up the mountain to look for definitely proof that Ascal was dead, and to bury their dead. He wouldn't be averse to paying a visit to Whiteridge either, and give a definite warning to anyone who wanted to raise arms against them, but...he was angry. He wasn't thinking clearly. His head hurt. Not a good time to be making decisions.

_Damn it, Impa...you couldn't have included yourself in this shitty situation?_

_I...don't know what to do without you..._

"Anyway," Kafei said, drawing Sheik back to the land of the living. "I'm going to let the others know you're awake." He knocked on the door leading to the other room and peeked his head inside. The snoring within stopped abruptly. "Wolf," Kafei said. "Sheiky's awake—be gentle, though, he's still a bit loopy in the head."

What followed was a whirlwind of movement as a great lumbering shape came out of the room, pushing past Kafei and practically hurling itself onto Sheik's bed...and then Sheik's vision was nothing but blonde, shaggy hair, and warm breaths on his skin as a nose nuzzled into his neck. Happy trilling noises filled his ears, and Sheik found himself smiling as he found the energy to warp his arms around Link, drawing him closer.

"I'm all right, Link," he said quietly. "I'm all right."

* * *

Despite the pain and discomfort it always brought, the sight of sunlight piercing through a minor crack in the broken stone above him was all the encouragement Ascal needed as he continued to work his way upwards. Every part of his body, particularly his right foot, protested against the movements. He had no idea how long he'd laid buried beneath the remains of the Studio, but he considered himself lucky that his head hadn't been smashed in—that always took such a long time to recover from.

Grunting, he pushed a heavy block of bricks out of his way, letting more sunlight in. It burned his face, but he didn't care. The fresh air alone was worth it. Pushing away more debris, he drew in deep breaths and started pulling himself out of the pile. It was slow going—the material around him was packed hard, and the sub-zero temperatures of the night had made it even more solid.

Then his arms came free, and he forced several fingers back into their proper places. The cracks echoed in the quiet morning, as did his groans as he pulled the remainder of his body out of the tiny tunnel he'd managed to dig through what turned out to be a giant pile of rubble, all that remained of the Studio's main keep and towers.

Panting, he laid on his back, staring up at the remains of what had once been a stalwart fortress and its turrets, reduced to absolute rubbish by the blast. He coughed, unable to be anything but impressed with young Impa's dedication to her plan.

She had not flinched at facing him in a fight, despite the limp that left her at a clear disadvantage, had gone for one last strike, and finally detonated the explosives without a moment's hesitation. She'd hoped to take him out in the blast, of course, but that had been a flawed strategy to begin with—there was far too much to use as a shield—and after that it was only a matter of waiting until he woke up again, as he always did...

"Heh," he huffed. "I would have let you land that hit, Imp." He frowned. Not calling her that had been a true struggle. He always did, back then, but she faced him as an adult this time...and she deserved his respect. Rane had ruined everything...

The sun was strong this morning, shining through the trees and directly into his eyes. Uncomfortably, he shifted around the pile of rubble until he spotted something beneath a broken gargoyle—the kind surrounding the crow's nest. Pushing it aside, he retrieved what turned out to be a hat...with a ridiculously large brim. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ascal put it on, instantly relieved by the protection from the sunlight it offered.

He spent a few minutes looking himself over. Several broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder...and a crushed foot. A pounding headache, too, but that was the least of his problems. The foot was, to be honest, the biggest annoyance—there were so many tiny little bones there that took forever to heal, even for something like him.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. Had it been up to him, he'd have caught up to Sheik and his friends before they'd even left Hyrule, ended it there and then. Left the hunters alone. But no...Impa should have accepted his offer. Should have agreed to Dane's suggestions. This could all have been avoided...and now they were all dead. All this death...for nothing.

...well, not nothing. Sheik was dead, as was his friend. So his young lord's financial loss had _technically_ been avenged. The princess was dead—so they would have to rely on the leverage with her body double instead, provided Dehl had done her job properly. So...not ideal, but still a favourable result.

He could finally go home. But he'd need to strengthen himself for that...

"...and no food in sight," he muttered. The participants in the battle had all been buried in the rubble, and the ones still lying in the courtyard...well, dead blood was useless, wasn't it? He groaned, rising to his feet, realising he'd dropped all his weapons apart from his _kukri_ , which he'd sheathed just before Impa had detonated the powder.

"Guess I'll head to Whiteridge, then," he said to himself. "But first...find more weapons."

He searched through the rubble for an hour or so, finding a few pistols that weren't crushed by the fortress' collapse. He also found a long coat that wasn't too bloody, which made him look a little more respectable, ignoring the godawful limp he was currently saddled with thanks to his ruined foot. It was a good thing he had a high pain threshold...

"Eugh..."

He turned, surprised to hear a voice beside his own at this disaster site. It had come from a pile of rocks near the remains of the fireplace in the main hall. It was blocked by rubble, but he quickly shifted it away, revealing a quite safe cubby-hole, sheltering a very familiar face.

"Arthur," he said evenly, oddly...proud that the man had had the quick thinking of jumping into the last place one would seek shelter. He had a few burns, but the fire had quickly been snuffed out, it seemed.

Art was curled in on himself, unconscious. His leg was bent at an awkward angle—broken, definitely.

"You're...alive," Ascal said, more for his own benefit. He put a finger to Art's throat, feeling for a pulse and finding it. Strong, and...rushing...

It was shameful, how quickly he found himself salivating at the thought of plunging his teeth into the man's neck. Before he knew it, he was kneeling above Art, fangs flicking into place. "Sorry about this, my friend," he said.

"Sorry about what?" Art said with a groan, eyes flickering open.

Ascal threw himself back, forcing the fangs away. "Er, nothing...thought you were dead, that's all," he said lamely. Groggy as he was, the look Art gave him was anything but impressed by that explanation.

"...you were going to suck me dry, weren't you?" he said, groaning again when he tried to touch his broken leg. "Fuck me..."

Ascal looked away, suddenly ashamed...without really understanding why. Why should he feel guilty for wanting to feed? Did he not have a right to exist as well? True, Art wasn't the one he's really wanted to drain, but in the lack of other live prey...

"Probably should."

He looked up at that, surprised by Art's words. "Pardon?"

"Should drain me," Art said. "Leg's broken, useless. Can't come with you."

That was...true. Even without a broken leg, Art wouldn't have been able to keep up with Ascal over the mountain, with it frozen over. The cold and difficult of moving didn't bother Ascal—he had time, and the temperature was hardly a problem...

"You're right," he said, moving back to stand over Art. "You can't come with me. Even at your best you wouldn't be able to keep up. You're no longer of any use."

Art watched him with heavily lidded eyes, clearly in a great deal of pain, but refusing to look away. "Aye," he said.

Ascal waited a long moment, thinking. Such an annoyance, sentiment. Only in the way when practicality and pragmatism should take precedent. With a long-suffering sigh, he leaned down, taking Art's hand and hauling him up, drawing a startled gasp from the man. Throwing Art over his shoulder, Ascal gingerly climbed down from the pile of rubble, limped his way through the ruined courtyard, and back onto the frozen river. It was slow going, but soon he was on the road, packed down by the marching army.

"Boss?" Art asked, sounding nervous. "What're you doing?"

"I am very annoyed with you, you know," Ascal said, fighting back the headache that threatened to overcome him at any moment. The memories were fighting hard to come to the forefront, to overwhelm him. He couldn't let that happen. Not yet, at least. "You've somehow wormed your way into a category of people I had long since thought closed in my mind, but _no_ , there you are."

"...sorry?" Art said uncertainly.

"You'd better be," Ascal snapped. "Had it been anyone else, I'd have drained them in a moment and been on my way already."

"We're heading..."

"To Whiteridge," Ascal said. "It'll take a while for them to realise what happened here, and few enough of the townspeople saw your face. Claim to be a foolish mountaineer, and I'm sure they'll look after you."

"But—"

"You can see your pastry chef girl again, marry her, and have lots of fat little children. That's what mortals do, right?"

Art seemed to understand what was happening, and gave a huff. "...yeah. Want me to name one after you?"

Ascal bit his lip. "I've always liked the name Phaeron," he said. "How about that?"

"A bit old-fashioned...but sure, Boss."

The rest of the walk to Whiteridge was spent in silence. Ascal had never been one for goodbyes, and Art...well, Art never spoke much to begin with. He seemed to understand, though. Ascal appreciated that, and turned his thoughts to more pleasant ones—like his young lord's face upon his return. He already found himself smiling.

Jerewin, he thought. I'm coming home.


	60. The Distraction

The trading post was quiet as the grave, the mood sombre and defeated. The only comfort to be found was in the warmth from the fireplace and multitude of furs left behind by the old owners when the hunters had taken over the place as a safe house for those who did not make it to the Studio before the pass froze over.

The news of Sheik's awakening had brought a little joy to the survivors, but even that could not break the gloom that had settled over them. So much had been lost in the span of a single day, it was impossible to even fully grasp the situation.

"How you two keep hurting yourselves like this is beyond my understanding," Kaura muttered as she examined the bruise on Sheik's forehead. "It's like you're magnets for trouble—oi, hands off." She smacked Link's hand away, which kept roaming around Sheik's body, as if to ensure that he was still whole.

"I'd chalk it up to bad luck, but that does not exist," Sheik said, giving Link a firm look when his hand began creeping along his shoulder. As much as he enjoyed his lover's attention, this was not the time to play explorer. Link had the decency to look sheepish and pointedly placed his hands in his lap, though he'd moved the chair as closer to Sheik as physically possible. "Perhaps the Goddesses simply have it in for us?"

"They are a merciless bunch, then," Kaura said, glaring upwards at the figurative powers that be. "And I fear for the world at large if making life miserable for the two of you is the best the three of _them_ have to do with their time."

Link huffed in agreement, adding his own glare to the invisible creators.

Kaura continued her examination, making Sheik follow her finger with his eyes, ensuring that his balance was still intact, and that he could actually move his body. "No neurological damage, then," she concluded with a small sigh. "That's a relief, at least."

"Could do without the headache," Sheik said with a wince as he moved to sit back against the pillows of his bed.

"It was a nasty bump, you'll likely be feeling it for a few days," she said. "I'd give you something for it, but I wasn't able to bring my supplies with me apart from the barest of essentials. There's plenty of vodka, but alcohol is the last thing you need right now."

"Pity," Sheik said with another wince, ignoring the fact that Link's hand was once again at his neck, rubbing gently. "Would certainly enjoy drinking myself into a stupor right now."

"Welcome to every second of every day of my life," the physician said with a wry grin, which fell shortly after. "That said...I don't think your aunt would appreciate you wallowing in misery like this."

"She shouldn't have blown herself up, then," he replied, glaring at the foot of his bed.

"Unnecessarily drastic, I agree, but that's what she decided to do," Kaura said, nodding. "She saw no other choice—"

"Don't make excuses for her." Sheik's fists clenched as he remembered the last look he'd shared with her, her last words. "We could have found another way, but she didn't even consult the rest of us."

 _Didn't consult_ me _,_ he thought.

Kaura didn't say anything in response to that, and Sheik looked at her, raising an eyebrow despite the pain it caused by tugging at the skin around the bruise. "I'm surprised you're willing to defend her," he said. "She made you leave your patients behind to die—isn't that worthy of your scorn?"

The hand at his neck tightened its grip slightly, as if in warning, but Sheik ignored it. Link huffed again.

She seemed to realise what he was trying to do, refusing to rise to the bait. "Kid, your aunt wasn't a saint by any definition of the word, but she did right by us, including you. There might have been other options, but we were out of time to explore them. Was I happy about being forced to abandon my patients to their deaths? No, but I also know that most of said patients were going to die anyway, and her actions provided them an opportunity to die with dignity, the way they wanted to. I couldn't offer them that, constrained as I am by my oath."

Sheik rolled his eyes. Of course she would say that. Because what Impa had done was worthy of _nothing_ but respect, of course. _Of course_. He was only being a pouty child, wasn't he, by still being angry with her.

"Be angry all you like, kid, it won't change what's been done," the physician said with a level voice. "Be happy she gave you a second chance—and if you can't be even that...well, show her you can be a far better leader when the time comes."

"Kafei told you, did he?" he said, focusing on that rather than the sudden swell of guilt he felt in his chest.

"He told us everything as soon as we arrived here," she said as she packed up what few supplies and instruments she had. "People were not happy about it, but they understood why it had to be done that way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some drinking to do."

"Oh, so _you_ can have alcohol?"

"I'm not the one with a rattled brain."

Sheik sighed, closing his eyes and with a frustrated groan. It felt like a white-hot nail had been driven into the middle of his head—it was no wonder his temper was so short. An insistent poking at his side drew him back, and he found Link's hopeful face staring back at him.

"Fine," Sheik said, prepared for the Hylian climbing into his bed this time, nuzzling as close as he possibly could. It was cute, really, if slightly overbearing. He supposed it was one of the things the Alpha had "gifted" Link—a pack mentality so strong it bordered on clingy.

Link's lips found his, and he tried to let himself focus on that, if only for a few moments. With all he'd lost, he should focus on what he had left. He let the larger boy envelop him, enjoying the warmth Link seemed to radiate, the earthy scent that reminded him of how they'd worked a field together, before...no, don't think about that.

Sheik opened his eyes, and found that Link was signing. It took him a moment to realise what he was saying.

**Worried about you**

"I told you, I'm fine," Sheik said, touching his forehead to Link's, looking down at the Hylian's fidgeting hands. "Just...upset."

**Sorry**

"No need to be...I'm sorry for worrying _you_."

Link huffed, his hands wringing some more before signing again.

**Dropped you**

Sheik wanted to groan with frustration. They kept doing this. Going in circles with apologies and assurances, never able to move on. "You didn't drop me on purpose," he said calmly. "You fell. Not your fault. Please...no more apologies."

The Hylian looked anything but ready to stop apologising, but Sheik seized his hands and kept them still, giving Link the most calming smile he could must, kissing his nose. Link blushed.

 _Precious,_ Sheik thought.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked, releasing Link's hands. In all the chaos from the battle, he'd forgotten that Link, too, was far from all right. "Do you feel anything...different?"

Link shook his head, signing: **Same. Bones hurt.**

Sheik blinked. "Your bones? What do you mean?"

**Like...growing pains**

It took him a good minute to catch on, but then Sheik recalled that...

"You've grown taller," Sheik said flatly, looking into Link's eyes, and then down at his legs. "I thought I was imagining it, but...no, I wasn't. Look at your trousers."

Link did so, eyes widening slightly when he saw that a great deal of ankle was on display, which Sheik knew for a fact hadn't been when Link had first put them on. His hands shook slightly as he spoke, **How?**

"Another gift from the Alpha, we can assume," Sheik said, frowning.

**What is wrong?**

Sheik didn't want to say. "You'll think me childish," he muttered.

**Tell me**

"...I hate being the shortest," he admitted quietly. "It's not funny," he added when Link's eyes lit up, and a snort escaped from the Hylian before he could close his mouth. "It isn't," Sheik insisted. "Even _Lor_ is taller than me—"

Link couldn't hold it in anymore, his laughs coming out as silent, hiccupping breaths as he drew Sheik closer, neatly slotting the Sheikah's head beneath his chin, as if to emphasise the size difference.

"You're an ass," Sheik said darkly, words muffled against Link's throat.

 **And you're adorable** , Link signed, still laughing.

"I'm not," Sheik denied, trying to remove himself from Link's hold when the Hylian just wouldn't stop fucking laughing at his height-induced misery. "You're the worst!"

 **So cute,** Link maintained.

Aware that he was pouting, Sheik tried wiggling to make Link let go, but that only made him hold Sheik tighter, causing him to huff. Link shivered at that, the feeling of his breath ghosting over his throat. Sheik smirked, an idea coming to him. Gently, he let his lips brush over the sensitive skin. Link's breath hitched for an entirely different reason, and Sheik smirked even wider at that. Slowly, he kissed his way upwards, enjoying Link's little sounds and shakes of pleasure, finally reaching the little hollow where Link's throat and jaw met, where he added a little suction. That made the Hylian whimper, almost crushing Sheik in his grip.

"Like that, do you?" Sheik whispered, repeating it. Even if Link wasn't able to vocalise his approval, a different part of him certainly did.

 _At least that hasn't changed,_ he thought, continuing his ministrations, enjoying every bit of reaction he could draw from Link. A distraction was what he needed now...and perhaps an opportunity for revenge on his too-tall-for-his-own-good lover.

He let his hands wander lower, cupping the growing hardness between Link's legs, drawing a gasp from the Hylian. Link drew back, cheeks aflame and grey eyes glazed over. He carefully took Sheik's hands, moving them back up between them, then signed.

**We can't. You're hurt.**

Sheik chuckled. "Who said anything about me? This is about _you_ ," he purred, kissing Link thoroughly, continuing until he felt Link relax against him, trilling happily and turning to mush. "I want to make you feel good," he said, nipping at Link's lower lip, then gingerly running his tongue along the sharpened teeth in his lover's mouth.

He'd been wondering about it ever since he'd learned about what happened to him, and the creature that had turned Link into this...whatever he was. How far and how deep his newfound instincts went.

"Will you let me do that, Link?" he asked, letting his hands wander down once more, pleased that there were no hands stopping him from exploring his lover's body this time. No matter how many times he touched Link like this...he would never grow tired.

Link only released a shuddering breath, his back arching slightly in response.

Sheik hummed, leaning up to catch the sensitive tip of Link's ear between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to cause a little pain, and no small amount of pleasure. Link's mouth opened in a silent moan, his hands landing on Sheik's hip, holding on for dear life. Sheik blew on the ear he'd just bit, lowering his voice further, and spoke into it:

"Will you let me please you, my alpha?"

Link's reaction could only be interpreted as a definite **Yes**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff for my darling readers!
> 
> Oh, and 60 goddamn chapters. Who'd have thought (asked no one)?


	61. The Headline

Link smiled to himself when Sheik was nearly bowled over by Zelda as they descended to the trading post's ground floor. He steadied his Sheikah lover with a gentle hand at his back, still mindful of his head injury that left Sheik somewhat dizzy when standing up.

"We were worried," the princess said, to the agreement of the rest of the survivors apart from Kaura, who had been true to her word and was sitting behind the broad counter at the back of the post, nursing at a bottle of strong spirits that tickled Link's nose.

"Sorry," Sheik said, hugging Zelda closer. "Didn't mean to." He swayed a little, and Link moved closer to tap Zelda on the shoulder, pointing at Sheik's head.

Zelda nodded wordlessly and quickly led Sheik to the table by a large window where she'd been sitting with the twins and Lor, a massive pile of papers and journals occupying most of the surface. Link didn't miss the red rims of her eyes, and the slightly wobbly smile she levelled at her adopted brother. Grief, and relief, all at the same time. Impa had been more than just a teacher to the Hylian princess, and Link felt a twinge of his own in his chest when he thought of the master hunter.

He still found it hard to believe how easily she had come to the conclusion that sacrificing herself was the only way, along with destroying the Studio. Had Ascal's appearance rattled her so? Surely the hunters had ways of dealing with vampires? He'd tried asking Kafei and Ayla while waiting for Sheik to wake up, but they'd replied only vaguely, refusing to elaborate on what they could do.

Link knew he should be angry with Impa as well, that he should feel betrayed. That was only natural, was it not, after such an event? Just when he thought he was beginning to gain a new home, a new family, it had been wrenched away from him in one fell swoop, buried in rubble...but really, he was only angry with Ascal...and himself. The vampire, and Link's own failure to recognise a dangerous beast for what it was, was the cause of all this. Even if Link hadn't been able to tell that Ascal was a vampire, he should have realised something was off when a random person in a city full of rude arseholes suddenly offered to help for no tangible reason.

He'd tried to reason with himself, tell himself that he was hardly in a state to think critically at the time. He'd just lost everything, and was grieving for his family and village. But that excuse did not work either, as he had clearly been able to focus enough to worry about the party at the Castle Sheik was taking him to. No, the truth was he'd been too naïve to realise what was happening, and as a result Lor had suffered...and now the Studio was gone.

My fault, he thought, moving away from the table and towards Kaura instead, who gave him a suspicious look as he approached.

"You had better not be planning what I _think_ you're planning," she warned him as he clambered over the counter and went for one of the bottles on the shelf. "Kid, no."

Link gave her a sour look, pointedly uncorking the bottle he'd taken, nose wrinkling immediately as his sinuses were assaulted by the sting of vodka. He'd thought this stuff smelled bad _before_ his run-in with the Alpha, but now... He took deep drink before he could reconsider, grimacing at the burning sensation in his throat.

Kaura sighed, taking her feet off the counter and trying to take the bottle out of his hands. He growled at her, turning away.

"Don't be childish," she said. "Whatever you've got rattling around in your skull isn't worth drinking yourself to death for."

Not feeling particularly charitable towards her wisdom at the moment, Link signed as best he could with one hand, **Unlike you?**

"I drink for a different reason entirely," she said with a snort, making another attempt at taking it from him. "I drink to relieve stress; you're drinking because you're feeling guilty about something. I've no idea what that could be, but I can tell you right now it's stupid and not worth it. Besides, we have no idea what will happen when you introduce alcohol to your system."

 **Let's find out** , Link signed, trying to take another sip. This time, however, Kaura darted at him with unexpected speed, and with the deftness of a practiced surgeon, taking the bottle right out of his hand.

"This is not the time for you to run experiments on yourself," she said with a hiss, pointing at the group huddled around the table. "Nor for feeling sorry for yourself! Go to them and commiserate—they all lost something with the Studio."

Why was she making this so damn difficult? He didn't deserve to sit with them, being the root cause of it all. He growled again, louder, staring down at her...and noticing properly that Sheik was indeed correct about his height. Kaura and he had been about the same height when they just met, but now...

She was not intimidated by his stature or challenging sounds at all, giving him an unimpressed, level stare until he turned away, surveying the shelves for another bottle.

"Don't even think about it," she warned again.

"Is there a problem here?"

They turned, finding Kafei standing on the other side of the counter, shoulders tense.

"Wolfy here is being an idiot," Kaura said. "Thinks that this—"she held up the vodka"—is somehow going to help."

"I need you on your toes, Link," Kafei said, giving him what must have been his newly developed Leader stare. It was wavering. Nothing like Impa's, but...still... "We're not out of danger until we're back in Hyrule."

Link tried to find a way to argue for the proposition that his getting spectacularly drunk was the best option for the group as a whole right now, but found his well-articulated reasons and dazzling elocution hampered somewhat by his still struggling grasp on the sign language. It only ended with Kafei looking even more unimpressed, and jerking his thumb towards the door.

"Why don't you join Ayla and Tao and keep watch for a while? I'm sure they'd enjoy the company."

Why was everyone conspiring against him today? Snorting, he gave a nod and climbed over the counter again, trudging towards the front door. Sheik intercepted him midway, giving him a confused look.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

**Outside. Watch.**

"Want me to—"

**Stay.**

Link touched the side of Sheik's neck, fingers lingering over the spot beneath Sheik's collar where he knew there was a suction mark, one Link had put there. He didn't dare bite the Sheikah, but he was damned if he wasn't going to mark him if...if...

He extricated himself from the situation quickly, pointing Sheik towards the table once more before practically leaping out the door. The shock of freezing air meeting his face brought him back to the world. He drew several deep breaths, trying to focus.

He'd almost done it again. Almost lost himself to the entity he'd come to refer to as the Beast. It wasn't intelligent, it couldn't speak. It only...suggested. Made him feel things that _seemed_ right to him in that moment, but later made him wonder what on earth he was thinking. It had been very strong when Sheik had begun kissing him, calling him his alpha...Link had definitely been unable to resist the Beast then, letting himself indulge in the wonders it could make him feel...and the wonders Sheik could _do_ to him.

He'd tried to resist, at first, citing Sheik's injury as a reason, but then that purr, and Sheik's words...they had overpowered what little remained of Link's common sense. It hadn't lasted very long...but Link was absolutely determined to return those affections when...when all was well. The thought of Link's mark being on Sheik's skin had nearly brought the Beast forth once more, and only the cold air let him wrestle it back under control.

My body, my mind, he thought, clenching his fist. My Sheik. Not yours.

He could swear he heard something chuckle in the back of his head...

"Wolf?"

He looked up. Tira was waving at him from the small stable building next to the trading post. A small fire burned just inside the door, around which a few milking stools had been set up. She and Tao were sitting by the fire, evidently in the middle of a card game.

Link waved back, taking his time to approach, banishing the Beast to the very deepest recesses of his subconscious, bidding it to not come back.

"Heard Sheik's awake," the other Hylian said, looking back at her cards as he sat on the last available stool. "He all right?"

Link nodded, beginning to sign when he remembered that Tira didn't know the language.

"Tao's been trying to teach me," Tira said, discarding one from her hand. "Turns out I've no talent for it."

Tao sighed exaggeratedly, giving Link a pointed look before signing, **Impatient**

Link grinned at that. He definitely understood Tira on that. Sometimes he barely had the patience for the nonverbal communication method himself—but then he _needed_ it. He couldn't always rely on having writing materials available. He breathed through his nose, taking comfort from the smell of the campfire and...oh, he'd forgotten about that...

He felt a little evil as he reached down and dragged his finger through the snow just outside the door. Why they'd chose to take shelter in the stables, which looked ready to fall down at the slightest gust of wind, and which did absolutely nothing to shield them from the cold, he had no idea. Perhaps it was the _illusion_ of shelter that drew them there.

The trading post itself had an ideal location, nestled against the cliffs by a road that had likely once been well-travelled before the modern highways had been built. This small road had been made into a dead end by a rockslide from decades before, which had apparently been the final nail in the coffin that convinced the owners to sell it to the hunters for their use as a safe house. It was, however, rarely used as the hunters themselves had taken to travelling on the highways soon after. These days, apparently, it was used for romantic liaisons instead, and a temporary domicile for the hunters who failed to make it up the mountain in time before the pass froze over.

Strategically, it was difficult for anyone to sneak up on the place. The cliffs at the back and rockslide remains to the left of it were impossible to traverse, and the sheer drop into the cliffs and trees just across the road sheltered it from intruders unless they brought climbing equipment. As a result, the only place that needed to be watched was the road winding around the rocks to the east...and Kafei had voiced his doubts that anyone even knew this place existed anymore, save for the hardly individuals who made this mountainside their home.

All in all, they were somewhat safe here, but they were all rather eager to get on their way, as far away from the mountain as possible. They needed proper shelter, and to get Zelda home before something even more disastrous, hard as it could be to imagine, happened. After all, they had no idea if Ascal had been killed in the blast or not...

Link finished writing, pointing down at the words he'd drawn in the snow.

_**Speaking of impatient...you and the princess?** _

Tira cursed under her breath and practically hurled herself off her stool, stamping down on the snow to erase the writing. Link found himself grinning widely at her, while Tao, who had also seen what he wrote, snickered.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" Tira asked, voice barely above a whisper. "If anyone finds out...how _did_ you find out?"

Link tapped the side of his nose.

Tira's brow knitted in confusion for a moment before she realised what he was implying, and groaned. "Of course," she muttered, then gave him her best pleading look. "Look, you can't tell anyone, all right? The controversy—"

Link held up his hands, shaking his head. He drew in the snow again, smiling.

_**I won't tell anyone. How did it happen?** _

"I don't know if I should say—"she began, but then Tao snapped his finger, giving her a look that could only be interpreted as eager. That surprised Link a little. He'd been certain Tao had nursed a little crush of his own on Zelda...perhaps he didn't consider Tira a threat? Eugh, his pack was ridiculous enough to induce a headache sometim—

Friends. His _friends_. Not pack. They weren't animals. _Link_ wasn't an animal.

"She started it," Tira said sourly. "Kept asking me questions about...about _that_ , and then outright asked me if I wanted to...sleep with her. Caught me so off-guard I couldn't say anything, and she nearly stormed out of the room, but I didn't want to let her go, so..." She smiled fondly at the memory. "I'm not sure what it's about—maybe she is just curious, or something. I was selfish enough to take advantage of that, I guess..."

Link snorted at the thought of Zelda letting herself be taken advantage of. If anything, it was the other way around. He let her know as much with another message in the snow, to which she snorted.

"Maybe," she admitted. "She's the one with the power, after all."

_**She's a good person** _

"She is."

Tao snapped his fingers once more, drawing their attention back to the game. He motioned to the unused pile, silently asking if Link wanted to be dealt in.

 **Absolutely,** Link signed back.

Kafei had been right. The fresh air and change of atmosphere had him feeling better, and it was nice to spend some time (silent as it was) with the two of them. Tao was always good company, and Tira...well, while she didn't speak much, he found her to be a comforting presence—he found himself at ease with her.

Of course, the peace didn't last long. About thirty minutes into their game, they heard voices echoing in the air, quickly approaching the trading post. Tira reached for her sword, but then paused, craning her neck.

"It's Ayla and Elenwe," she said, relaxing. "Back from their supply run."

The two of them soon came around the bend, carrying fewer bags than Link had expected, given the size of their group. The three of them waved at the girls in greeting, and were puzzled when they receive none in return. Instead, Ayla and Elenwe made a beeline straight to them, their faces grave.

"Welcome back," Tira greeted, noting their expressions. "Supply run didn't go well, I take it?"

"Mundies weren't happy about trading with us," Ayla said with a growl.

"They never are," Tira said, shaking her head. Noticing Link's confused look, she elaborated. "Mundane hunters," she explained. "The ones who hunt deer and the like, for food rather than protection like we do."

Ah...

"That's not the problem, though," Elenwe said, pulling a bundled package out of a bag and dumping it on Link's lap. "Look at the headline."

Link unwrapped the package, revealing it to be one of the local newspapers. He didn't recognise the name, but it was written in the common tongue, at least. He read the headline...and his eyes widened, jaw dropping.

_**Tragedy in Hyrule - Princess Zelda dies in fire** _

* * *

Zelda didn't move as she stared down at the paper, hands clenching at the edge of the table, her eyes sweeping across the slightly clumsy script. The press was likely not a very good one, and the only source of information in the area. Sheik stood at her shoulder, reading the article along with her. He silently noted to himself that it was an old newspaper, dated several weeks before they arrived at the Studio. By his calculation, they'd arrived at the cache the night before this paper was printed.

 _Why haven't we heard of this before now?_ he wondered, placing a hand on Zelda's shoulder, noting the tremor that was running through her. Her breathing was calm and collected, but he recognised the signs of his sister holding herself back. _Did none of the other hunters relay their condolences by raven?_

He found it hard to believe that no one would see fit to speak to Impa about this, given her attachment to the young princess. Were they so heartless as to keep their correspondence strictly professional in what was to be a time of mourning? His thoughts felt absurd, given that he was standing right next to the person whose obituary they were reading, but news like this...they would have far-reaching consequences.

And as angry as he was with his aunt right now, even Sheik knew better than to assume Impa would keep something like this to herself, if she'd known. No, this had never reached the Studio.

_**A deadly fire broke out in the Princess' lakeside retreat at Lake Hylia two days ago, leaving no survivors. The blaze consumed the building within minutes, the plume of smoke visible for leagues. Officials have yet to determine the cause of the fire, but suspect an unfortunate accident involving the grand fireplace, where it seems to have originated...** _

Sheik skipped further down the article, his hold on Zelda's shoulder tightening slightly as her tremors increased.

_**The Princess' body was discovered surrounded by her guardsmen, who in their indomitable loyalty and admirable dedication to their duties, attempted to shield her from the fire, but not even the stalwart Royal Aegis could...** _

Sheik's brow furrowed, and he ignored the blossoming headache. That made no sense. Why on earth would the Zelda's bodyguards attempt to shield her from a _fire_? Surely they'd be doing everything in their power to get her _away_ from it, out of the mansion?

_**Surrounded** _

Surrounded. Shielded. As in from...attackers?

_**Lord Jerewin Camdessus, head of House Camdessus and newly appointed Closed Council leader of Castle Town, expressed his deep sorrow when the news was broken to the world, vowing to continue the Princess' work to lift Hyrule out of the dark ages and into modern times, to eliminate its plummeting debt, in the interim while the council determines who is the closest heir to the Hyrulian throne.** _

_**"I will not rest until we have once again established security and stability for all citizens of our great nation," says Lord Camdessus. "The Princess worked tirelessly to better the conditions for her subjects, and we cannot do any worse. I will do whatever it takes to live up to her expectations until we have found our new monarch, and the throne of Hyrule is once again occupied."** _

"Camdessus," Sheik muttered, letting the name roll over his tongue. It was familiar. Zelda had complained about him a lot since she'd taken over her father's duties. "You remember him?" he asked quietly.

"Jerewin," Zelda spoke, her voice hollow. "He has pestered me about economic reforms and changes ever since Father passed away. He was once considered a suitable marriage partner, but he was...he is..." Her voice broke. "She...she's dead..."

Sheik swallowed, remembering the young Hylian girl who'd been trained to assume Zelda's role in emergencies. What was her name...he could not remember. He'd only seen her once, from a distance. She'd bore a striking similarity to the princess herself...and she'd suffered for Zelda...

Movement to his left. Tira was drawing Zelda into a tight embrace, and she clung tightly to the hunter as she cried on her shoulder, whispering words of comfort into her ear.

He looked up, meeting the serious gazes of the others around the table, pushing the paper to the middle of it so the rest could read. He rubbed at his temples, letting the information he'd just taken in settle, trying to find connections. He tried to ignore the one he immediately wanted to jump to—it was...convenient. Almost too convenient.

Jerewin Camdessus. The information he'd gathered on the young noble slowly came to him. A rather unremarkable man who'd not had much impact on politics...until now, that is. He'd assumed his father's place on the Closed Council, but made no progress on his issues. House Camdessus had once been militarily strong, but their influence had decreased over the past century or so, their power waning. Economically, they were among the wealthier houses, but that mattered little when it could not buy them influence.

Sheik had never found him remarkable enough to keep close tabs on, and Zelda's annoyance with him had never seemed anything to worry about. He was just one more useless noble in a kingdom full of them. This meteoric rise to council leader and evidently the interim decision-maker, however...that was suspicious.

"Shielded from fire...?" Lor muttered as he read, his snort of derision telling them exactly what he thought of the idea.

Sheik turned to Link, whose eyes were locked on Zelda, looking ready to pounce on her and scoop her up, cuddling her into oblivion to comfort her. Link noticed, looking back. Sheik moved a little closer, murmuring under his breath, just loud enough for the Hylian's sensitive hearing to pick up.

"Suddenly makes sense Ascal knew about and wanted Zelda too, doesn't it?" he asked, to which Link nodded. "This reeks of his doing." A twitch, and a baring of razor-sharp teeth. Even now, Sheik had to suppress the slight shudder at remembering Link's mouth on his neck just hours before. He focused. "How far ahead did he plan, do you think?"

A shrug and quickly moving fingers. **No idea. Dangerous. Go home.**

"I agree—"

It was Lor who spoke up, through gritted teeth as he glared down at the paper. "What do you think the chances are of Ascal's 'young lord' being this Camdessus person?" he asked, looking up at the two of them. "The man who hired the slavers, who had me...who captured me?"

Ard twitched, moving his chair closer to Lor's.

"I would say those chances are high," Sheik said, turning to Zelda. "But this...fire...occurred while Ascal was chasing us through the hills in Termina. Obviously, he is not _personally_ responsible for this..."

"So we can reasonably assume Ascal isn't the only dangerous individual in Camdessus' employ," the princess said, pulling away from Tira and wiping at her eyes. The Royal Mask was back on. Even without a kingdom, she was a force to be reckoned with. "The question is, is he the only vampire?"

"Vampires are intensely territorial," Kafei said. "They rarely accept the presence of another on their turf. I doubt there is another bloodsucker involved."

"Then he has some very skilled individuals capable of infiltrating a highly secure keep with high walls," she said, drawing looks from the others. "That fire was no accident—I refuse to believe it. Someone burned it down, presumably to hide the evidence of the assassination."

Sheik frowned. He couldn't quite fit those two parts together. If Ascal or Camdessus had ordered the death of Zelda's decoy, why hadn't Ascal mentioned it on their first encounter? To Sheik, the vampire didn't seem to have recognised Zelda at all, truly believing that her name was Hilda. He winced as another wave of white-hot pain washed over him, his brain not particularly fond of his thinking at the moment. The timelines didn't fit—Ascal _must_ have known about Zelda by the time he attacked them...but if he did, why didn't he just kill Zelda immediately if his ultimate goal was Lord Camdessus assuming the reins of the kingdom? Unless the plans weren't for Zelda to die at all, that the assassination at Lake Hylia was an accident.

Zelda made a frustrated sound and took the paper from Ayla's unresisting grip, staring at the headline for a moment before crumpling the paper and throwing it into the fireplace. "Regardless of their plans, I have been betrayed," she said, voice firm and strong. "They have murdered my decoy, and stolen my kingdom from underneath me. That cannot be allowed to stand. I must return to Hyrule immediately and... _correct_ this mistake they've made."

The remaining hunters and survivors exchanged looks, and Sheik almost sighed as he saw what was happening. Of course, it was inevitable, but this was going to be dangerous.

"We are under orders to escort you safely to Hyrule, Your Grace," Kafei said. "And that is what we intend to do. However long it takes, and whatever threats we face underway."

Sheik looked at his cousin, wondering what had overcome him. He had never been fond of royalty, had criticised Zelda on multiple occasions over the years...and here he was, offering to escort her home, implying he'd fight for her as well. Kafei looked back at him, tapping the pocket of his jacket, where Sheik knew contained the earring.

 _So, acting like a leader, are you? Following Impa's last orders to your possible death...only you, cousin,_ he thought.

It was as good a reason as any, he supposed, and if it meant Zelda was a little more protected on the road and upon her return to Hyrule, Sheik would not complain. "We're with you, Zelda," he intoned.

"So are we," Lor said, speaking for himself and the twins.

"You'll need some remedies if you're hunting vampires," Erd added.

The hunters were spoken for, and all eyes in the room turned to Kaura, who did not look thrilled to be in the spotlight. Her face was passive, regarding them all with annoyance. "You realise that neither myself nor Tao have any personal stake in this, right? We have a home and business in Termina, where we would be safe from all this nonsense. I owe you no debts, and I am _not_ a goody two-shoes with lofty ideals."

"Believe me," Sheik said, "not a single person in this room would _ever_ accuse you of being that."

She snorted and threw him a crooked grin before turning to Tao, who was sitting on the counter, watching the proceedings with sharp eyes. "What do you think?" she asked him, causing the boy to look at every face in the room, lingering on Zelda's for a long moment. Then his hands moved in a flurry of signs Sheik couldn't keep up with. Judging from Link's expression, neither could he.

Kaura chuckled and nodded. "Good point," she said. "He says that I'm an idiot if I think I can just walk away from an opportunity to be a hero," she translated. "Also," she added, looking at Link and Sheik, "he's not _nearly_ done teaching the pair of you to speak properly."

"So, that means...?" Sheik asked.

"I suppose it means I won't be seeing my little clinic anytime soon," the physician said with a heavy sigh. "And I should probably look into getting a gun."

"Doesn't that go against your oath?" Zelda asked, looking relieved to have their support. Tira was standing close, taking up a position at her shoulder, like a bodyguard. "It goes something like 'Do no harm', if I recall correctly."

"Depends on your definition of the word _harm_ ," Kaura said. "To me, it means something permanent. Besides, there are always exceptions, and in this case I'm of the firm opinion that some miscreants need to be shot in the feet. Keeps them grounded. Doctor's orders."

"And now I'm even more afraid of you," Ayla said, edging away from the doctor nervously.

"Good."

* * *

Sheik stepped out of the trading post as the others continued their hasty packing. No time could be wasted in getting Zelda back on her throne, and they would set out at dawn the following day. Sheik's meagre belongings were already packed and ready by the door, and the noise level inside had become a little too much for his headache.

He should have known better than to think he'd be alone as he felt Link's arms enveloping him from behind, radiating warmth even out here, trilling comfortingly as he nuzzled Sheik's jaw.

"You always seem to know where I am," Sheik murmured. Link huffed, as if offended by the notion that he _wouldn't_ know. "Sorry, of course, you're the alpha. You're _supposed_ to know."

More nuzzling, and Sheik could almost hear the Hylian say "Damn right". Then a questioning sound, confused. Sheik knew why. Of course Link had figured that out too.

"I'm worried," he admitted. "About the city, about my network, about..." He paused. "I'm worried about Eren and Nikal."

They'd put themselves directly in the line of fire by rescuing Lor from Ascal's clutches...even if it had been a trap so Ascal could follow them from Hyrule. It had to have been. They had exposed themselves in a way that, if Ascal wanted, he could easily hunt them down. Sheik prayed with his whole being that the vampire had chosen to focus exclusively on him and Zelda, but...well, the Goddesses were utter hags...

Link's hands moved, and he looked down.

**They are fine**

"How do you know?" Sheik asked. He'd trained them to the best of his ability, but at the end of the day they were still _children_. If Ascal wanted them, he'd have them in no time. "I haven't heard from them all winter—they'd know to contact me if something happened..."

 **They are smart,** Link insisted. **Could be hiding**.

That was a possibility, of course. In addition to what Sheik himself had set up, his little assistants had organised their own safe houses all over the seedier parts of the city. He hoped they'd had the wits to retreat to one of them, waiting for his return. He hoped...

 **Headache** , Link signed, gently touching Sheik's temple. **Need sleep.**

"I'm fine—hey!" he protested as Link hooked his arm under his legs and lifted him up, supporting his back with his other arm. "Link, put me down."

Link grinned with a shake of his head, mouthing "Nope."

Realising he had no way of stopping Link from doing as he pleased, Sheik sighed and allowed himself to be carried inside, drawing amused looks from his fellow hunters (and one absolutely shit-eating grin from Lor), and up the stairs. Admittedly, he _did_ feel a little better when he laid down on his bed, and Link extinguished the lamp in the room, throwing it into darkness...but nothing compared to how much better he felt when Link drew him close and simply held him until he fell asleep.

...he was growing soft, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cat's out of the bag now, and Zelda's _pissed_!


	62. The Vampire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FANART!  
> The lovely Levelout/Hakmakha has done some awesome art of Doctor Kaura and Iteos. Please take a gander at their art and shower them with praise and affection!
> 
> [Kaura](http://levelout.deviantart.com/art/Kaura-652851386)   
>  [Iteos](http://levelout.deviantart.com/art/iteos-653500613)

Despite the pain every step brought him, Ascal thanked his lucky stars for his particular condition. The sun was a bit of a pain, but the wide-brimmed hat he'd found at the Studio and the high collar of his coat kept it at manageable levels. His foot was slowly— _very slowly_ —putting itself back together, but his rapid pace down the mountainside didn't do it any favours.

The pass, as usual, had been frozen over by the time he began his descent, but where a mortal would quickly falter and freeze, he simply pressed on. He lost count of how many times he accidentally triggered avalanches, both big and small, but by some miracle he always managed to find shelter.

The only exception was when he broke his left wrist. A sheet of snow had come loose beneath his feet, carrying him a fair distance down until he tried to jump to safety. His hand got wedged between a pair of rocks, and the snow had taken care of rest. If he hadn't already created an avalanche, his pained scream surely would have then.

Never mind that, he thought after recovering from the experience, cradling his hand to his chest. I have plenty of time to heal later.

Reaching the closest thing to a highway this part of the world had, he began to move in the direction of Termina's border, turning north-east when the opportunity presented itself. Going the rest of the way home on foot would not present a significant danger (as long as he fed somewhere soon) or challenge, but he had no time to waste. He wanted to see Jerewin. _Needed_ to see Jerewin.

The very thought of his young lord's face, smiling widely at his return, brought a similar grin to his own face beneath his collar. By now, Dehl would have wrangled the decoy princess and brought her to heel, leaving Jerewin in charge. Ascal wouldn't be surprised if he saw some changes by the time he crossed the Hyrulian border, at that. Jer had always been efficient...

It seemed the cold of winter was discouraging the usual mass of travellers these roads saw, even down here where the air wasn't _nearly_ as freezing as in the mountains. Then again, the flatness of the plains around the around provided no shelter from the constant wind that cut through bone and marrow—no horse would survive for long unless their riders found an inn to stay at.

Ascal thanked his lucky stars yet again for his body's resistance to the cold.

Days and nights passed, and he continued walking, only stopping for a few hours at a time for some much-needed sleep. These brief periods of rest let his body heal a little faster, and soon enough his limp was reduced to only a slight stiffness to his steps. His wrist, however, was still too tender to move about too much.

Not a single traveller met this entire time. Even on a backroad like this, he'd expect at least _one_ disgruntled farmer on his way to town to purchase essentials, soldiers on patrol, _anyone_...

Did the world end while I was traipsing around up there?

A ridiculous thought, of course. But he needed to keep himself occupied as he continued on his way. The headache he'd acquired from both the explosion at the Studio and the sudden deluge of memories that hammered at his mind like an anvil threatened to overwhelm him at any moment, and he couldn't let that happen. Not now. He just needed more rest, more time to allow his thoughts to settle.

That was how he found himself lying down in a ditch by the side of the road, providing him with some modicum of shelter from the whistle of the wind, staring up at the night sky, counting stars and reciting the constellations from memory—in every language he knew. He knew a lot. He wished he still had his telescope—of the many hobbies he'd tried over the years, stargazing had been his favourite.

When his count reached a thousand, his eyes had begun to droop, and he soon found himself falling into light slumber that was all a vampire could hope to achieve while on an empty stomach. He could handle it. The ache hadn't even started yet. He'd had much worse.

* * *

_"Your name."_

_"What of it?"_

_"It is the same one you bore when you were alive."_

_"Does that offend you, master?"_

_"No, but it holds you back. I have seen it. Every time it is spoken, you remember. You hesitate. This will only weaken you. Sever your ties to that flawed existence—become stronger than Phaeron could ever have hoped to be."_

_"...Emory."_

_"Emory...Emory...I like it."_

_"Then please call me that from now on, master."_

_"Oh, I will..."_

* * *

This was not good. It had been _years_ since he'd last dreamt of that. Years since he'd heard _his_ voice. It still had the same profound effect as it did back then, even in his dreams. He'd woken with a start, still in the ditch. He'd rolled over his broken wrist, which had been the thing that woke him. He was grateful for that.

Surely seeing the Studio again had not unsettled him _that_ greatly, dislodging strata upon strata of memories he'd fought to suppress for so long? The headache, now ever-present, suggested so. Growling to himself, he hurled himself out of the ditch and continued on his way.

He passed at least two villages that day, and the temptation to wait and sneak into one at night for a feeding was difficult to ignore, but he still did. He didn't have time for this. Once he was back in Hyrule, he wouldn't have to fight it anymore. Jerewin would be more than happy to provide...

He found the first road sign pointing towards his destination, and he felt his pace picking up almost automatically at the sight of it. And then he heard the high-pitched whistle, audible from miles away. The passing of time, upsetting as it was, also brought with it some positives.

Practically jogging towards the obscenely tiny little smudge of a town called Peltagrow, famous only for being one of the few stops along the Silver Line, Ascal felt his nerves settling just a little.

* * *

_"You must feed, Emory."_

_His stomach felt hollow, like a crumpled-up bag. He barely had the energy to give Gideon an angry glare, sneering at the old vampire. "I don't need it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was so weak, even lifting his head was a struggle._

_Gideon ran a frustrated hand through his reddish-orange hair, making it stand at full attention. A fireball on legs—the comparison nearly made Emory snort, but not even that did he have the energy for._

_He sat on the edge of Emory's pallet, glaring down at him. "Must we do this every time?" he asked. "You know what the end result will be."_

_"I will not take it from them!" Emory hissed. A thousand invisible mouths gnawed at the inside of his gut, draining him of all power. "I'm nothing like you!"_

_Gideon chuckled and looked at his boots. "Actually, I was just like you," he said. "When I was turned, when the full consequences of what had been done to me were revealed, I did the same thing you are doing now. I refused to feed, refused to use my gods-given strength to take what I wanted and needed, because it felt wrong."_

_Emory looked at him with a suspicious squint, like that would somehow give him insight into Gideon's mind, which was surely an utter maze of confusing twists and turns. Sometimes, Emory doubted the man himself knew the true extent of what was happening in his head._

_"What changed?" he asked._

_Gideon shrugged. "I do not yet know," he said. "Too much time passed; the change was too gradual. Perhaps it was my understanding of my place in the world that somehow shifted. Hard to say. What I do know is that, at this point, I am at the top of the food chain—but I have many rivals. And compared to them...well, I am the better choice. I am nothing like_ them _." He echoed Emory's words, directing his ire to the other warlords._

_Gideon's was far from the only coven, but only he kept his moving at all times, never staying in one place for too long. It invited complacency. It invited risk. It begged for the hunters to investigate, to discover their true nature. The others saw Gideon as an aberration, an eccentric. Why sleep in hovels and reek of weeks of sweat and dirt, when you could rest on silk sheets and have servants waiting on you day and night?_

_One would think the covens would understand this whenever one was exterminated by the hunters, but comfort was more important than longevity at times, apparently._

_So Gideon continued to teach his ways to his charges. Attempted to teach Emory, who resisted at every turn. Why he wasted his time on him, Emory did not know._

_"But my past is not the reason I came to talk to you," Gideon continued, looking down at Emory with that same look of pity he'd given the young mortal named Phaeron, one year before. "You will come to understand our ways in time—that is the one thing I can promise you. For now, though..." he whistled loudly, and the door to the small storage room Emory had chosen to hole up in opened, and a young man stepped through._

_He kept his eyes on the straw-covered floor, hands fiddling nervously with the sleeves of his shirt, which hung slightly off one of his shoulders, exposing his neck. Golden, smooth skin that had Emory's mouth filling with saliva before he even realised what was happening, swallowing embarrassedly._

_"No," he whispered to Gideon. "Please, no."_

_Gideon shook his head, keeping his attention on the young man. "Renard, was it?" The young man nodded, still not looking at him. "Come closer, Renard." He did so, and Gideon took hold of his chin, gently forcing the young man to look at him. His eyes were...beautiful. Blue, with a band of gold around his pupil. "How old are you, Renard?"_

_"T-Twenty, my lord," Renard answered, voice shaking with...nervousness? Anxiety? Emory couldn't tell._

_"And you understand what it is I am asking of you?" Gideon continued. "The sacrifice?"_

_Renard muttered an affirmative._

_"What was that?" Gideon asked. "I couldn't quite hear you, Renard."_

_"I understand, my lord," Renard repeated, a little louder, voice positively trembling now. "I...I volunteered, my lord."_

_Surely not...? Emory couldn't believe it. Renard had_ volunteered _for this? His trembling words weren't from fear at all, but_ excitement _?_ Anticipation _? His suspicions were confirmed when Renard looked down at him, and a small smile spread on the younger man's lips._

_"He is in pain, my lord," he said to Gideon, not taking his eyes off Emory. "He is starving. I want to help him."_

_Gideon nodded, satisfied with his answers, and rose from his seat. He stroked Renard's cheek with the back of his hand, seemingly lost in thought, before heading for the door. "Then I leave him in your hands, Renard. Call out if you need help."_

_The door shut, and Emory was left alone with the young man, who looked positively eager as he sat down on the bed, occupying Gideon's spot. He reached out and touched Emory's shoulder lightly._

_"You are hungry," he said gently, removing his shirt and exposing a smooth upper body that, while slim and firm, had not seen much hard work in its still young life. Was he a noble, perhaps? Or a scribe?_

_"Please, my lord," he continued, addressing Emory the same way as he had Gideon, "take what I have to offer to sustain yourself."_

_"No," Emory croaked, attempting to turn away from Renard, but he was too weak to do anything other than a vague shuffling motion that didn't even rock the bed. "Don't want it..."_

_"Gideon explained it to me," Renard said, his voice soothing and calm, full of understanding that had Emory shiver with...what? He did not know. All he knew was that a body full of blood was tantalisingly close, the slight pulse in the side of Renard's neck stealing his focus until he could_ swear _he heard the other man's heartbeats, could see the vein bulging with every contraction of the muscle. "You are new; you don't understand your place. I am here to help."_

_"Don't want it," Emory tried again, unable to tear his eyes from Renard's neck as he shuffled closer, lying down beside Emory, exposing his vulnerable throat. Gods, it really_ was _pulsating... "Don't want to take—"_

_"You won't be taking it, my lord," Renard said. "I am_ offering _it to you. Please, accept it. I know how much I can lose before it's dangerous, I will stop you before then."_

_Every word, and Renard came closer and closer. Emory could smell the scent of soap on him now. Lavender, and something else he couldn't place. It was...metallic...gods, could he_ smell _it? He'd hungered before, but then Gideon had forced him to...to..._

_"My lord," Renard whispered, almost purring as he let his finger trail along Emory's chapped lips. "Please...consider me your benefactor for the evening. Your...donor."_

_Emory's fangs had locked into place and were buried in the young man's neck before he knew it. He'd be horrified with himself, would have hated himself, were it not for the instant relief he felt in his gut as the first drop of blood hit his tongue...and then he only continued to suck._

* * *

He'd just missed the noon express, but was assured another train would arrive later that day. The man who sold the tickets had given Ascal a strange look, surely because of his odd outfit and the way he cradled his broken wrist, but had made no comment other than to point Ascal in the direction of Peltagrow's only tavern, saying it was just about the only way to pass the time in the area.

Ascal had thanked him, and then indeed gone to the tavern. It was a quaint little place, barely seating two dozen people, including the stools at the bar. Last Stop, was its name. It made no sense. Peltagrow Station was, according to the crude map of the railway Ascal had been shown, halfway to just about anywhere the trains went. He made no comment about it, however, and simply purchased a glass of wine and sat at a corner table, his back firmly against the wall. Some habits die hard.

He sipped at his drink, snickering when a disapproving face appeared before his mind's eye, not realising where it had come from before the headache reaffirmed itself by driving an invisible nail through his forehead.

We do not drink wine, indeed, he thought, deciding this particular bit of pain was worth it, if only to piss off the memory of the face's owner. He'd never liked her anyway.

He wasn't the only patron of the tavern that afternoon, but the men and women who came to enjoy an ale (rather early, in Ascal's opinion, but then again what else was there to do at this time of year?) were obviously the local sort, and gave him a wide (but very polite) berth, leaving him to his thoughts. Honestly, he would have preferred a bit of conversation, even if the topics would invariably revolve around turnips, the farming and cooking of.

One young woman gave him curious and, with lowered standards, flirtatious looks, but he only returned them with a polite shake of his head.

Not even if I were alive, he thought.

* * *

_They'd been forced to leave Renard behind when they moved on, thanking the mayor of the village for their hospitality. He worked in the local brothel, did not possess any skills the coven had use for save for his blood...and that could only be drawn after long bouts of recovery._

_The parting had been...upsetting. For Emory because he lost a steady source of sustenance he did not feel guilty for taking (because it was a gift), and for Renard because...well, Emory had never quite figured out the younger man's motivations. Emory tried not to consider them too much. None of them sat well with him, and he could only hope that Renard would one day find someone who could give him what he wanted without having to offer his blood in return._

_Even if he had been alive and_ normal _, Emory was not that someone. He never had been the sort for_ those _types of relationships with anyone. He simply found them distasteful. Part of the reason he'd abdicated the clan leadership to Maeron had been the marriage requirement, after all._

_Gideon had promised he'd soon be able to leave his past behind, to forget it all. It still hadn't happened. Every time he saw, heard, or smelled something that reminded him of his old home, of his family, it was like diving into icy cold waters. It took away his breath, left him floundering until someone pulled him back ashore, to the present._

_The only thing he was thankful for in this, was that those frigid waters also reminded him of his promise. He would kill Gideon. He would tear the vampire's head off with his bare hands, and burn the remains until there was nothing left but ashes, which he'd scatter to the winds. Every time he told Gideon this, the fiery-haired vampire simply laughed and said he looked forward to that day._

* * *

Travelling on an empty stomach, with a broken foot and a broken wrist, and then downing a single glass of wine was apparently the recipe for a sleep potion, because Ascal was (gently) awoken at the sound of another high-pitched whistle, and the bartender shaking his shoulder roughly, grunting that he was going to miss his train.

Thanking the bartender (and choosing _not_ to inform the man of how difficult it had beento fight his natural urge to rip his head off), Ascal headed back out into the cold. The sun had set by now, and the only lights came from the lamps outside the tavern, and the well-lit station platform, where a sheer marvel of engineering stood waiting, steam billowing from vents.

Trains. Those were the future. Jerewin had made a rather impassioned speech to Ascal about it when he was about fourteen, having just received a rather large cache of information from one of his teachers about the marvellous mode of transportation. Ascal had been quite impressed, both with the presentation and Jerewin's determination to present the idea of a Royal Railway Line in Hyrule to King Rhys.

Nothing had ever come of that, presumably because the boy's father had laughed at the idea. Grateful as Ascal had been to Lord Camdessus, he had never quite forgiven him for crushing his son's spirit. Perhaps that was the moment he'd decided to...to...

He shook his head, and paid for a ticket to the last station before Hyrule's borders.

If only you'd presented the idea to the princess, Jer, he thought as he boarded a passenger carriage and secluded himself to the private cabin he'd booked. He didn't trust himself around other passengers just now.

Then I could have taken this thing all the way to Castle Town. You could have met me at the station...

His stomach gave a slight lurch as the train pulled out of the station, loud whistles announcing its departure, but it quickly settled down (albeit still complaining about the lack of sustenance). He ensured that the cabin door was locked, and then stripped off his coat and heavy equipment. There wasn't a bed, but that was hardly necessary. He simply enjoyed the opportunity to not have to be on guard for once.

After all, not a single soul alive knew where he was right now. At least, no one that mattered.

His eyes drifting shut once more, Ascal's last thoughts were with Arthur, and whether or not he'd gotten together with his pastry girl yet...

* * *

_It was supposed to be a day of joy, of celebration. A day of feasting, jesting, and drinking until you passed out under a table, only to remember how truly memorable and_ festive _the day had been. The small mountain town had always taken the weddings of its inhabitants seriously, especially one between clan heirs. His, the wealthiest landowners in the area. Hers, the one that could trace its lineage and blood to that of powerful kings and queens, both ancient and current._

_For many, it was a union that could result in nothing but joy. It would bring an end to the feud that had sown such bitter seeds of discontent between the clans for so long, uniting the town and surrounding farmsteads in a way that could never again be broken—today they would bind themselves to each other with words, and soon a child would seal the pact with blood._

_The only thing that made the day even better for Phaeron was the knowledge that he'd managed to talk his way_ out _of the situation, replacing himself with his little brother. Maeron was far more suited for the position anyway, even if his temper could be somewhat short if caught on an empty stomach. His tantrum upon being notified that Phaeron had relinquished his position as clan heir had been legendary, and was still spoken of in hushed tones._

_But it had only been words, and Maeron had never been one to act in anger. So he had forgiven Phaeron, and accepted the mantle with the dignity the position required, even though he still sometimes joined his friends in creating mischief. Opening the butcher's pens and luring her chickens into the tavern had left half the town in stitches and the rest shaking their heads in obvious disapproval...all the while hiding their smiles._

_Maeron had always been the smart one, in Phaeron's opinion. While his little brother asked annoying questions and pretended to fall asleep during his lessons, he was still miles ahead of Phaeron in most subjects. It wasn't that Phaeron was stupid—he simply did not find the subjects particularly interesting, preferring to leave the politicking to Maeron._

_"You're just doing this so you won't have to play mediator between the clans, aren't you?" Maeron had asked him soon after the announcement. He'd had a wry smile on his face, his unruly golden hair catching the sunlight like a lion's mane. "You want to leave all the boring business to me, while you're gallivanting around the countryside, playing hero to damsels in distress!"_

_Phaeron had grinned back, touching the spot above his heart. "Oh, brother, you know me all too well. Of course that is all I gave up the power for—to become a drunken hedge knight, to find adventures at every turn. Discussing the price of wheat with farmers? No, that is utterly boring and shall have me dead by the age of thirty!"_

_They'd laughed, and then gotten legendarily drunk on their uncle's spirits (distilled from potatoes, of course) and had a whale of a time, neither of them mentioning what they knew was the true_ _reason for Phaeron's abdication: Marriage. Or, the one he'd be forced into by their father._

_War was on the horizon, and the only way to prevent it was to tie the clans so tightly together that they'd hardly know where one ended and the other started. It would be like attacking family—and that would just not do._

_Phaeron didn't have anything against marriage, provided it happened to other people. Really, those sorts of relationships did not interest him in the slightest—they were complicated and messy, and required altogether too much work to even_ appear _to be functioning, much less actually do so._

_Really, if Phaeron had to be completely honest, he found people in general to be unnecessarily complicated, and he found he much preferred to spend time in his own company. His horse did not comment upon his appearance, did not challenge him at every turn. It simply remained a silent companion as he explored the mountains in which he'd grown up, finding something new and wonderful on each trip._

_Now that Maeron had been saddled with the clan inheritance, Phaeron was free to explore to his heart's content! And that was what he intended to do, after the wedding. He'd seen all there was in the mountains—he wanted to see what lay beyond their borders, what wonders he could discover out there in the wide world._

_At the age of twenty-eight, he knew he was too old for such fancies. There were too many other duties he would soon be required to take up as his father and his siblings grew old...but damn it, surely he deserved to see a_ little _of the world before that?_

_He'd already packed his belongings on the morning of the wedding. He'd leave as soon as possible the next day, hopefully before everyone else woke up to their hangovers and their embarrassing deeds of the night before._

_The wedding would be wonderful. He'd see his little brother married to a good woman (what was her name again...?), their family's future secured in a strong alliance, the townspeople celebrating their newfound strength..._

_They never saw them coming._

_Phaeron had already been on his fourth cup of wine when it happened, and everything had been a blur of screams, blood, fire, and arrows. He'd found a sword, or possibly taken one, and it had been drenched in blood...and so was he._

_He was on his back, staring up at the sky as the heat of the burning temple washed over him, the flames flickering in and out of his vision. His breaths came in short, wet gasps. Arrows. Three of them. One in his side, one in his gut, and the last...the last in his groin. Frankly, one would have been enough; the last one utterly unnecessary. He wondered if the archer had aimed there deliberately, or just gotten lucky._

_He remembered feeling ridiculous, wondering if it were normal for the dying to consider the luck of their killers' aim. Had he even taken a single attacker with him, or had the red on the blade come from himself? That'd be embarrassing, if he'd only managed to cut his own flesh. The master-at-arms would be beyond furious..._

_Heavy footsteps came in his direction. Armoured. Steel painted black with soot, speckled with red. The man crouched next to him, removing his horned helmet. He'd been so pale, not even the firelight had managed to lend some colour to his visage. A pitying look had been aimed down at him as the warrior took in Phaeron's injuries with eyes like amber._

_"You fought back," the man noted, indicating Phaeron's blade._

_Had he been able, Phaeron would have buried it in the man's chest. He recognised the helmet; its wearer had taken Maeron's head off with a single blow of his axe._

_"Not well enough, however," the man continued, lightly touching an arrow shaft, sending vibrations of pain thrumming through Phaeron's body. "Brought down by a bowman. How shameful."_

_"Kill me then, and be done with it," Phaeron had forced out, coughing the last word with a snarl, choking on his own blood._

_A few specks of it had landed on the man's face, on his bottom lip. A tongue flicked out, drawing the drop into his mouth. His pupils dilated slightly, and his shoulder's tensed a little before relaxing again. He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, continuing to watch Phaeron as his strength faded, the sounds of screaming and the dying around him grew dull and his vision darkened. Then the man leaned down, speaking quietly, almost whispering, into Phaeron's ear._

_"Do you_ want _to die, clansman?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Or do you want a chance to avenge your village?"_

_Phaeron glared at him, unable to conceal the hatred that tempted him to scream his determination to tear the man to pieces, had he only the strength._

_That only seemed to amuse the man, and he chuckled. His voice was deep, almost reverberating in Phaeron's bones. "Very well, young clansman. I shall give you this opportunity. Consider it a wedding gift."_

_Phaeron, mind addled by blood loss, was unable to tell the horned bastard that it wasn't_ his _wedding he'd just ruined, but all strength was sapped from him as the man cut Phaeron's throat with a quick flick of his bladed wrist._

_For a moment, everything went silent and black, and all Phaeron could feel was the ground swallowing him up, drowning him in oblivion as he faded from the world, well and truly dead. Not so bad, he'd felt. He'd get to see his mother again._

_But then his mouth was wrenched open, and a warm and disgustingly thick fluid was poured into it. It had a metallic taste, and his nose was filled with the smell of rot and decay. But the worst was the burn. Every part of him the fluid touched_ burned _like it had been set on fire, and it only continued to spread as it poured down his throat, into his gut, where it radiated to every corner of his body. His black vision became white-hot with pain, and he would scream but only found himself choking on the substance that seemed to be melting him from within. It was only a relief when his consciousness finally faded, lulled to sleep by the man's voice speaking into his ear once more._

_"Rest, clansman. When you wake, all will change."_

_It did._

_The horned man's name was Gideon._

_The mundanity of the name was almost as comical as his background. Once nothing but a baker's apprentice, Gideon now led one of the most feared war bands this side of the Gerudo Desert._

_Calling him a man, however, was wrong. Gideon was so much more. The elders of Phaeron's town had sometimes spoken of such creatures, but he, along with everyone else, had always assumed they were myths and legends, stories meant to frighten children into obeying the rules and laws of their parents._

Nosferatu _. The unclean one._

_They'd have to invent a plural of that word, given that every man and woman in Gideon's band of warriors shared the same affliction._

_Night walkers, they called themselves. The superior. The heirs._

_Phaeron did not understand why Gideon had chosen_ him _to join them. His spirit, Gideon had claimed. Phaeron knew it was a lie. But that did not matter. Phaeron had only accepted so that he could one day tear his sire's head from his shoulders._

_His sire. His master. The one to whom he'd been sworn to serve—as_ thanks _for the Gift, Gideon had claimed. For that was what it was. Not a disease, not an affliction. Not something to be ashamed or grievous about. They were the next stage, after all. All sapient beings aspired to become like them, and it was important to weed out the...undesirables. Apparently, Phaeron had passed some sort of test._

_"I'm going to kill you," Phaeron had told him. "Debt or no debt—one day, you'll lie dead at my feet."_

_"I have no doubt of that, my dear boy," Gideon had said, patting his shoulder. The pats felt like the blows of a sledgehammer. The vampire's strength was immense. "But the question is, will I_ stay _that way?"_

* * *

"Fucking shit," he muttered, cradling his aching head in his hands. The train was pulling into the station closest to the Hyrulian border, another miserable excuse for a settlement called Taewe. After this, the train would go west, back into Termina and then north.

It had been a mistake to settle down in his cabin like that. He'd slept for a day and a half, waking in time to observe the last of the rolling hills pass by before the land grew flatter and soon began forming the plains that Hyrule was so known for. He'd slept a little deeper this time, despite his hunger, and that had only opened the memories further. He didn't want to remember this, didn't want to remember Gideon. The things he'd done...the things they'd all done.

The train whistled once more, and Ascal took back every positive thing he'd ever said or thought about steam engines. The devil, they were, for the pain their sounds caused. The carriage came to a halt, and Ascal took a deep breath before standing and retrieving his things, and unlocked his cabin. Muttering his goodbye to a conductor, he stepped onto the platform and got his bearing.

Technically, he could walk to Hyrule from here. He'd make it there in a few hours, if he jogged. That, however, would look mighty suspicious to the border guards, and he was in no shape to be climbing with his broken wrist, so he booked passage on the next stagecoach into the kingdom. It was a more comfortable mode of transportation anyway...

This time, he was determined not to fall asleep...which only guaranteed that he _would_. However, his sleep was not tainted by memories this time. It was suspiciously blank, and not restful in the slightest. It was the other passengers, likely. His body wouldn't shut itself down, not even a little.

As such, he woke up even more exhausted than before, and was naturally relieved when he realised they'd already reached the border, and were passing through a stone gatehouse. Guards were shouting instructions to each other, guiding the stagecoach to a small area by a small station.

"Please prepare your papers for inspection," one of the guards instructed the passengers.

...bugger.

Ascal had been in such a hurry to leave in pursuit of the hunters and the real princess that he'd forgotten to bring anything that would identify him as a citizen of Hyrule. Forged, of course, but still necessary.

Usually, Hyrule was quite welcoming to travellers from all over the world, rarely requiring anyone to prove their identity unless a state of emergency had been declared...or the country was in the middle of some drastic reorganisation.

Clearly, he was hungrier than he thought, if such a minor detail could have escaped his notice during his planning. Had he gone on foot, he could easily have avoided this checkpoint, but no, he _had_ to travel in comfort, didn't he?

"Please exit the coach and present your papers."

He did as he was told, placing himself at the end of the line of the passengers—a travelling salesman and a noble woman whose house had clearly fallen out of all favour and standing years ago, still putting on the airs of someone at the height of their power.

They passed the inspection, of course, and when the officer in charge held out her hand for Ascal's papers, he could do little but grin innocently in return.

"I'm afraid I have misplaced my identification, officer," he said with a helpless shrug. "I have been travelling rough for a long time—must have dropped it somewhere in the mountains."

The officer did not look amused at his pitiful explanation. "Is that so?" she said with false sincerity. "What a pity—unfortunately, due to the strengthened security measures in place, we cannot allow someone without papers to enter the kingdom. We are still in mourning, and the interim council wants everything under control."

Ascal paused. "Mourning?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

She gave him a confused look. "You haven't heard? You really must have been travelling rough." She gestured to the black band around her arm. Ascal had failed to notice even that. "Princess Zelda perished in an unfortunate accident several months ago—frankly, everything is a mess right now."

Ascal failed to hear anything she said after the word "perished". Dead? The decoy was dead? How? Had Dehl failed, somehow? Surely not, the girl was far more capable than she let on, and...and...

The officer was trying to catch his attention. "Sir?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face. He blinked, and gave her a weak smile.

"My apologies," he said. "Just...surprised, that is all. I was not aware of the princess' unfortunate passing."

"That is quite all right, sir," she said with some measure of kindness, believing his story. "However, I still cannot allow you in without proper identification. If you know a citizen of good standing who can vouch for you, we can contact them and ask them for a confirmation of your identity."

He nodded dumbly. I could easily kill you and everyone else at this station, he thought. But I won't. Because I need to think.

"So, do you know someone?" she pressed on.

"I do," he confirmed. "I am in the employment of Lord Jerewin Camdessus as his valet. He can confirm my identity."

He didn't notice her eyes widening a fraction. She cleared her throat and cast a glance towards her companions, whistling. "Royce, bring a pen and paper, will you?!" she called to them. "Lord Jerewin Camdessus, you said?" she asked, turning back to him.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"We were given notification of your arrival from Lord Camdessus," she said, turning to the approaching soldier and taking the proffered paper and pen from him. "You are...Ascal, correct?" she asked.

"Indeed, I—"

The gunshot was oddly muted, but there was no hiding the spray of sparks bursting out of Royce's pistol barrel. It lit the paper the officer was holding on fire, and soon another shot rang out.

Unnecessary, Ascal thought as he fell on his back, blood leaking from the two fresh holes in his chest. One was more than enough, given it had torn through his heart, and he was losing consciousness fast.

"What about the other passengers?" Royce asked. Their whimpers and fearful shouts could be heard, faintly.

"Kill them, and dispose of their bodies," the officer said, looking down at Ascal coldly. "Mistress Dehl wants this to remain a secret."

"And him?"

"Bring him downstairs to the cells—chain him down firmly."

"But he's dying—"

"Believe me, it's only temporary."

Sleep claiming him once more, Ascal felt like an utter fool. Was it sentimentality and longing that had done this, or was it the hunger he had thought himself so good for ignoring? Perhaps it was both? Either way, he had been had. How long had Dehl been planning this? Had it been a spontaneous change of strategy, rapidly chosen when the opportunity and idea had presented itself to her? Or had something like this always been her planned outcome? And where was Jerewin in all this? His name had been mentioned, but that was no guarantee that he was still alive...

Jerewin...

Regardless of what happened to Ascal, he knew one thing very well:

He and his daughter would have a _very_ serious conversation when he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to go up on Christmas Eve as a sort of present to you guys, but as it turns out I am horrible person who went into a holiday coma instead, so you're getting this now (before New Year's at least). A little time with our favourite vampire - hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I also hope you've all enjoyed the holiday season!
> 
> And if I (very likely) fail to upload another chapter before January - happy new year!


	63. The Unwanted Reunion

They weren't nearly as prepared for the trip as Sheik had wished, but the urgency of the situation left them no choice but to move with the greatest haste their, admittedly, bruised and battered group could muster.

They'd left the trading post before the sun rose, their feet crunching through the snow. Sheik thought about Maladict, Epona, and Mera, wondering if the horses had survived the attack on the Studio or not. They'd been locked up in the stables by the time Whiteridge had breached the keep, but there was no telling if the blast had left any structures intact or if they, too, had shared the fates of the Studio's denizens.

Regardless, he wished they'd been able to bring them through the tunnel, because this journey was taking excruciatingly long. Or, so it seemed, at least. The wonderful migraine left by his unwilling close encounter with the ground was still going strong, and not even the painkillers Kaura gave him could completely dull the edge—and the endless plodding along the frozen road did not help.

Unable to withdraw into his thoughts, he was forced to experience every wonderful second of their frozen mountain hike. Time did _not_ pass in a quick manner, and by noon he was completely on edge, wondering if he could convincingly fake losing consciousness and spend the remainder of the day being carried by Link.

Tempting as the idea was, he decided not to. It had been bad enough being carried inside by Link the night before—he couldn't take another round of that, and in front of everyone else, to boot! He did, however, indulge in having a living furnace for a lover by snuggling into his side as they took a brief rest, sheltered by an ancient circle of standing stones.

Even through multiple layers of clothing, Sheik felt the heat radiating from Link's body, and he only grinned cheekily when the Hylian looked at him weirdly, wrapping his arm around Sheik with a long-suffering sigh soon after.

On the other side of him, Tao had apparently gotten the same idea, and was burrowing into Link, clacking his teeth in an exaggerated manner to garner sympathy. Link's annoyed grumbles would have been convincing if it hadn't been for the satisfied look that soon overtook him when Tao actually feel asleep there.

"You're such a big softie," Sheik murmured into Link's ear.

Link huffed, slowly signing with his left hand, keeping his right still in order to not wake Tao.

**Never claimed not to be**

The others gave the three of them amused (and adoring) looks—not even Kaura was immune to the sight of her apprentice asleep against Link, his gloved fists bunched up in the Hylian's jacket. Zelda, who'd spent the day with a troubled face, seemed to relax a little as well, and a great deal of tension disappeared when she and Tira had a hushed conversation some distance away from the group.

Soon after, they were on their way once more. According to the maps of the area, they'd reach the bottom of the mountain at sundown, if they kept up this pace. They reached it about half an hour after schedule, and they decided to camp in the shelter of the tree lines before emerging onto the highway, where nothing would shield them from the winds that blew perpetually over the fields.

Whatever the others (Ayla in particular) thought about Link's acquired traits and changes, they certainly didn't complain when Link extended his pack instinct to everyone in the group.

Oh, they'd certainly put up a struggle when the Hylian had begun bodily dragging whoever he could reach into a pile by the fire (Sheik hadn't even bothered to struggle at this point, not willing to face Link's heart-breaking pout), but after realising just how much _warmer_ it was to sleep like this, they'd ceased fighting and just let it happen.

The triumphant look Link sent in response to Kaura's glare had been a sight to behold, and the sheer smugness he'd radiated when the good doctor realised she had no hope of escaping the pile without waking Tao (once more slumbering peacefully, lying across her stomach) was almost tangible.

"This is ridiculous," Ayla muttered, somewhere near the bottom of the pile. Her arms were wound tightly around Erd, her face buried in his neck. "Grown adults, sleeping like puppies..."

"Complain all you like," Erd said with an amused chuckle, "but I don't feel you trying to let go of me."

"You're warm," was all the Gerudo had to offer in response to that.

Link trilled happily at her, nuzzling Sheik's cheek with his own. Even Ayla couldn't stand firm in the face of a happy Link. Sheik certainly couldn't. He was quite content to stay where he was, almost at the centre of the pile with his alpha wrapped firmly around him.

"You're making me quite jealous, you know," Kafei said from somewhere at the edge of the trees, doomed to take first watch. "I'll be expecting a good spot when my shift is over."

"You can have mine," Elenwe said, somewhere under Lor. "If you can pry me out of it, that is."

"If we're going to do this, bloody shut up so I can get some sleep," Kaura bit out.

The muttered conversations did not fall completely quiet, but Sheik was already falling asleep, and the last thing he heard was Lor beginning to tell Elenwe the story of how he met Sheik.

For the first time in a while, he slept all the night through.

* * *

They caught a lucky break on the second day. Aware that the quickest way to get to Hyrule without horses was to take the train, they were heading to the closest rail station, which happened to be in a small town called Peltagrow.

Unfortunately, the term "closest" was quite relative, and they quickly found that the maps had not exaggerated the sheer size and emptiness of the fields surrounding the town. From their position at the foot of the mountain, they had at the very least three full days of walking ahead, and not at the pace of a leisurely stroll, either.

In any other situation, Sheik would have suggested they take things slowly, so they would not exhaust and (possibly) hurt themselves on the way. However, Zelda was agitated in a way he had never seen her before, not even when her father had passed away. It was only natural, he supposed, what with her kingdom having been stolen from underneath her, but...

So, resigned to three days of cold misery and blistered feet, he and the group set out once more. At least they had a proper road to walk on, even if it sorely needed some maintenance here and there. He could have done without the wind, as well, but wrapping a scarf around his head easily stopped the whistling in his ears.

It was almost suspiciously convenient, when the wagon train pulled up behind them. The lead wagon stopped some paces away, the woman driving it giving the group a suspicious look, even as they moved to get out of the way.

"Why have we stopped?" a muffled voice demanded from within the covered wagon, the fabric billowing in the wind.

"Strangers on the road, boss," the driver said. "Look dangerous."

_Why wait until you're on top of us to say anything, then?_ Sheik wondered, giving the human woman a distasteful look in return. _You must have spotted us from miles away._

"Eh?" The man who was presumably the driver's boss poked his head out from the wagon, his face mostly obscured by a massive moustache and beard, all salt-and-pepper-coloured. "Look more cold than anything to me, Rev."

Kafei and the others had their weapons out, just in case. There was nowhere to hide out here, nowhere to take cover. If something happened, they needed to be able to fight back right away.

"Good morning, friends," the boss said, nodding at each member of the group in turn. "You've picked a rather cold day for a stroll, don't you think?"

"I find the temperature rather refreshing, good sir," Zelda said, adopting a particularly polite tone Sheik recognised as the one she usually employed during political negotiations. "Though it is rather nippy today, I agree."

Sheik glanced towards the other wagons, counting thirteen of them in total, all carrying an unknown number of passengers and cargo under their covers. Some of the passengers were curiously watching the group, while others looked warier.

"Dare I ask where you are heading?" the boss asked, clearly not expecting a proper answer.

"Peltagrow," Zelda replied. "Our business is our own."

"Of course," the boss said, nodding. "I've no intention to pry." He regarded the group once more, paying close attention to the hunters, bristling with weaponry. He blinked when he spotted Tao, who was shivering slightly and clinging to Link. "I daresay your little one's had quite enough of walking, though," he said, nodding towards the boy. "Can I offer you a ride?"

Rev, the driver, gave him a sharp look. "Boss, _look_ at them," she hissed. "They've got more guns than the convoy combined—"

"Quite useful for protecting the _child_ they have with them, aren't they?" he hissed back. "Moreover, half of them are barely adults themselves."

Sheik wanted to bristle at being called "barely" an adult, but the thought of riding on the wagons was a very tempting one. He cast a surreptitious look at Link, whose gaze met his, asking a silent question.

Link shook his head in return, offering a tiny smile. He didn't smell or hear anything suspicious about the train, or its kind boss...though that alone was suspicious to _Sheik_...

"So, what do you say, miss?" the boss asked, having silenced his driver's protests. "We'd be more than happy to take you to Peltagrow, if you don't mind cramped quarters." He offered an apologetic grin. "Lumber does take up quite a bit of space."

_So that's what they're transporting,_ Sheik thought.

The hunters looked at Zelda, who'd apparently taken charge at the moment. She, in turn, turned to Sheik, mumbling under her breath, "What do you think?"

His head giving another painful twinge, Sheik gave her a nod. "Why not?" he offered. "Pretty sure we could overpower them if they attack anyway."

"We'd gladly accept," Zelda said. "Although, I'm afraid we don't have much to offer in return as payment—"

"Oh, don't worry about that, miss," the boss said, waving his hand carelessly. "Honestly, the increased number of bodies and weapons will only make us feel more secure in case of bandits." He waved them over, ignoring the snake-like hiss Rev was directing at him the entire time. "Can't fit you all in one wagon, so you'll have to spread out." He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. "Hey, make room for some more passengers!" he shouted to the other wagons, whose drivers replied with affirmatives and annoyed grumbles.

Determined to find out more about this kind-hearted man, Sheik wasted no time in climbing onto the lead wagon, following the man inside the cloth after giving Rev a quick word of thanks, which she'd ignored.

By the time the wagons began moving again, Sheik had been joined by Zelda, Link, and Tao (the princess' idea, presumably to keep the boss on their side, since he seemed to have a soft heart for cold children).

"Introductions are in order, I suppose," the boss said, shaking their hands in turn. "Name's Declan. I own this little transporting enterprise. The sharp piece of work out there is Rev, my partner in crime."

Leaning back against a pile of lumber, Sheik kept a close eye on the man, watching for any signs of treachery. He was oddly barrel-shaped, clearly enjoying the finer things in life, but was also no stranger to hard work. Somewhere in his fifties, Sheik would guess. He was all smiles, and if he had a hidden agenda in picking the travellers up, he certainly didn't show it.

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Declan," Zelda replied. "My name is Hilda, and this is Tao, Link, and Sheik."

"A pleasure," Declan returned, giving Sheik a particular look. "It's been a while since I last saw a Sheikah in these parts."

"We tend to congregate in cities—we find it safer there," Sheik offered, wondering if his eyes were about to get them kicked off the train.

Declan seemed to understand what he was thinking, however, and held up a hand. "I meant no offense, sir," he said. "I just...well, I can only hope the old ways still hold true."

"The old ways?" Sheik asked.

Declan simply grinned, and began rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, baring his right arm for them to see...and right there, just above his wrist, was a tattoo. Sheik recognised it immediately, if only because it was an almost exact copy of the symbol Lor currently had on his cheek. A hunter's sign. It was slightly faded, revealing its age, but...

"Recognised most of you for hunters the moment I saw you," Declan explained. "Figured you needed some help, since you're not at the Studio."

"You're familiar with it?" Sheik asked.

"Haven't been there myself, but I helped negotiate some deals for lumber and stone on their behalf," Declan said, scratching at his beard. "Earned me a friendship, that's for sure. Haven't seen a hunter in decades, though, until today."

"Well, I hope we haven't tarnished your image of us," Sheik said, feeling a slight pang of guilt for suspecting the man of treachery. One had to _earn_ the right to bear that mark, and Declan clearly had.

"Far from it, I'm only happy I can be of assistance again," Declan said. "Your people do good work." He glanced at Tao once more, eyes visibly softening. "Besides, I could hardly leave a kid out there in the cold."

"Well, the hunters thank you, Mister Declan," Sheik replied. "And we _will_ find a way to repay you for this kindness."

"Take your time, kid," Declan said with an easy grin.

* * *

A day and a half later, the wagon train pulled through Peltagrow, stopping long enough for a weary group of travellers to disembark, only to immediately board the waiting steam train.

Sheik hung back slightly, intending to slip Declan a bag of coins to convey his gratitude, but the older man had simply shaken his head and pushed it back into his hands.

"You'll need it more than me, kid," he said with a lowered voice. "If you're going back to Hyrule, that is."

Sheik narrowed his eyes at him. "Who says we're going to Hyrule?" he asked.

Declan shrugged. "Well, when you're travelling with its princess in tow...oh, don't give me that look, hunter. I've seen Princess Zelda's photograph."

"Oh...right."

"So, I can only assume you're taking her home to show that she's not as dead as the papers want us to believe." Declan snorted. "Or maybe not—either way, it's not my business, and I can only wish you the best of luck with it." He gave Sheik a gentle push towards the train. "Now, unless you want to be left behind, I suggest you get on board. The Hylian's looking agitated."

Link was indeed standing at the end of the platform, casting anxious glances between Sheik and the train.

Sheik nodded. "I suppose you're right. Thank you again, Mister Declan."

"Any time, Master Hunter. Please keep me in mind if the Studio should find itself in need of logistics management."

"I certainly will," Sheik replied, not having the heart to tell the man that the Studio was likely a smoking crater at this point.

* * *

"I've always wanted to ride one of these," Lor quietly admitted as night fell, and most of the occupants of their cabin had fallen asleep.

Sheik didn't say anything, only nodding to show that he was listening.

"Never thought I'd have a chance, given where my life was heading...where it was," Lor continued. He stretched out his leg, wincing when the knee joint cracked loudly. "I don't know if I've ever said it, but...thank you, Sheik."

"For what?" Sheik asked, voice raspy with exhaustion and near-sleep. There was an empty gap in the trees outside, allowing the moon to cast a pale light over his friend. A year ago, he would have thought Lor looked content, but sad. Now, he looked tired...but more than content. Almost happy, if such a thing was possible right now.

"For meeting me," Lor said. "For...protecting me. For being my friend...without you—any of you—I'd probably still be in the Temple, servicing customers with no idea of what's out there..."

Sheik nodded again, but also made a sceptical sound. "Without us, you wouldn't have gotten hurt," he reminded him.

"I got hurt plenty of times before I met you, Sheik," Lor said, gently treading his fingers through Ard's silvery-white hair, smiling when the scientist nuzzled against his thigh. "And...yeah...what Ascal did to me was bad, but...it also led me to meet Ard, and Ayla, and...well, everyone. I'd say that was worth a little pain..."

Sheik wanted to snort at his use of the word _little_. What Lor had been put through was hardly _little_ , but if that was how his friend chose to describe it, who was he to argue?

"I murdered that Blue Jackal, you know," Sheik said, not sure why he decided to share this particular morsel of the more distasteful aspect of his life. "The one who hurt you? Followed him when he went home the morning after, waited until he was alone and out of sight...and I killed him. Made sure it hurt, too."

"I know, Sheik."

That was unexpected. "How?"

"One of the girls told me—a client of hers was a Rook. Didn't take me long to figure it was you—the timing fit, and the other gangs don't kill each other like that."

"You didn't say anything," Sheik said, watching Lor closely, hoping to discern exactly what his friend thought of his particular brand of justice.

"Why would I?" Lor asked. "I knew why you did it, and while I don't like that you bloodied your hands for me, yelling at you for it wasn't going to undo the act. Besides...who knows how many others like me he'd hurt, were he allowed to continue?"

Sheik had no answer for that, and simply lowered his head. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For being _my_ friend."

Lor's smile was brilliant and filled with adoration, and he opened his mouth to reply, but then Tira cleared her throat from her seat by the door, not even lifting her hat to look at them.

"I swear to the gods, if you two don't stop being mushy and making noise, I'm throwing you both out the window and letting you _walk_ the rest of the way," she said.

* * *

The walls of the Hyrulian border were not the welcoming sort, with their spiked parapets and imposing gatehouses, but Zelda still felt a great sense of relief when she observed them from the bottom of the hill.

It was just after midnight, and the moon was obscured by a thick layer of clouds that had followed them from Peltagrow—another winter storm approaching.

"Fewer guards than I expected," Kafei said, studying the post through his spyglass. "Half a dozen, I'd say. Strange."

"There are usually far more than that," Zelda said, lying in the snow next to him, taking the spyglass when he offered it to her. "Especially in a time of mourning. Security is always tightened in tumultuous periods."

"Well, either they got over your death quickly, or something else is going on," Ayla said. "The vampire's accomplices screwing around with the army, maybe?"

"Hard to say," Kafei said, humming. "Though I don't think simply marching up to them and announcing that we have their dead princess with us is going to result in something _other_ than our swift arrest and nice, long prison sentences..."

"For the non-Sheikah, perhaps," Sheik added. "Us, they'll just hang on principle. Maybe the Gerudo, too."

"True, true," Elenwe agreed.

Zelda kept quiet at the matter-of-factly tones with which they discussed her own country's way of dealing with foreigners. Hyperbole, that was all it was, but one wouldn't have to look more than a century or so back to find examples of what they were describing. Sheikah, in particular, were killed whenever possible.

"So, what do we do?" Ayla said. "We can't go through the gate without drawing attention, and _if_ the vampire has accomplices, chances are he's put out warnings about us."

"We'll have to go _over_ , then," Kafei said. "We've got rope."

"But where?" Sheik pointed to the walls. "There's a torch at every checkpoint—every bit of the damn thing is lit up. We won't make it halfway up before we're spotted."

"We'll just have to time it just right," Kafei said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, cousin, where is your spirit?"

"Firmly inside my body, where I would very much like for it to stay," Sheik replied.

Huffing, Zelda stood up and glared down at the group. "I don't know about you, but I'm freezing, and I have no intention of sneaking into my own kingdom like a smuggler! There's a photograph of me hanging at every guard post, I'll simply have them compare that!"

She ignored the voices of protest erupting from behind her, keeping her gaze firmly on the guard post as she marched towards it. She made sure that her weapons were hidden from view, figuring that bristling with guns and blades weren't a good way to greet the guards.

She was dimly aware of someone—Tira, judging by the harsh breaths—catching up with her just as they came in view of the guard post. Their presence was noted immediately.

"You there, halt!" a voice called out. "Identify yourself!"

"Princess Zelda of Hyrule!" Zelda called back.

"What are you _doing_?!" Tira whispered harshly, trying to grab Zelda's shoulder and pull her back, but the princess wouldn't budge.

"Very funny!" the voice replied. "One more joke like that, and I'll shoot you for mocking her memory!"

"I am not joking!" Zelda insisted. "I am Princess Zelda, daughter of King Rhys, rightful ruler of Hyrule. The news of my death were greatly exaggerated—it was merely my body double who perished in the fire!"

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on!"

"I'd rather show you my signet ring!"

There was a long moment of silence, the guard clearly uncertain about how to handle the situation. Then, another voice, fainter, could be heard. A woman's, harsh and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on, Royce?!"

"Captain!"

Another silence dragging on, by which time the group had managed to assemble at Zelda's side. Tira (and now Sheik) were still trying to pull her away, but she refused. She'd meant what she said—she _refused_ to sneak into her own home—this Ascal character couldn't _possibly_ have as long a reach as the others feared!

"Attention!" the woman's voice sounded. "You may pass through the gate, but do so slowly, and without any sudden movements!"

The soldiers gathered in the small courtyard looked more like a firing squad than a border patrol, but Zelda supposed they wouldn't take any chances with such a large group. They were about evenly numbered, less than a dozen. That was strange—there should have been twenty guards, at the very least.

At the edge of the group stood a Hylian woman in a captain's uniform, looking severe. She studied the group closely before approaching Zelda, holding out her hand.

"The ring," she silently demanded.

"This is your princess!" Sheik barked. "Show some respect!"

The captain glared at him, still holding out her hand. "Until I see that ring, she is nothing to me, _nomad_. Miss, the ring, please."

Zelda slowly removed her glove and removed the unique ring, specially commissioned by the finest jeweller in Hyrule when she took her father's throne, putting it in the captain's outstretched hand. Behind her, her men kept their hands on their weapons.

The captain studied the ring closely in the light of her torch, and then looked at Zelda's face.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and Zelda felt her heart starting to beat faster than it already was, almost insulted with how long it took for the damn woman to identify her. It was strange, how unevenly distributed the sound of her heart was—she could have sworn she heard two extra thumps in her left ear.

"This looks genuine," the captain finally said, looking at Zelda's face once more. "And there's no mistaking those eyes. I see them every day over my desk, after all."

"So you recognise me, then?" Zelda asked.

"I do, Your Majesty," the captain said, sounding anything but happy about the sudden appearance of her dead monarch. When her hand closed around the signet ring instead of giving it back to Zelda, the princess' blood ran cold. The captain sighed. "You shouldn't have returned."

"What is that supposed to mean, captain?" Zelda demanded, scowling when the officer turned her back on her. "Captain!"

"Make it quick," she told her men, who immediately raised their weapons.

Time stopped. All Zelda could see were the pistol barrels aimed directly at her, at her friends, her brothers, her lover...and she'd pulled them right into it with her own arrogance, her utter belief in her own importance.

I'm a fool, she thought.

The first shot rang out...but it did not come from the soldiers. It came from somewhere to her left. The closest guard fell, blood spraying from his throat. The next two also fell without firing, crossbow quarrels buried in various parts of their anatomies. Then something slammed into the captain, bearing her to the ground with a loud growl.

It was a quick, dirty distraction, but an effective one. The group did not fail to grasp the opportunity, and surged forward together. Zelda lashed out with a dagger, catching one of the guards in the thigh, and then cutting his throat with a fast spin.

As she came around, she seamlessly drew her pistol and fired it directly into the captain's shoulder, giving Link the upper hand in their struggle.

Whoever the supposed border guards were, they were _not_ part of Zelda's army. They were not nearly well-trained or prepared enough for a fight like this, against hardened hunters. It was over in minutes, and every single impostor lay dead at their feet, steam rising from their heated blood slowly spilling onto the ground.

"Good thinking, climbing the wall while they were distracted," Kafei said, nodding to Link. "Wish you'd taken someone else with you, though."

"I'm the lightest, honey," Elenwe told him. "Turns out an arm contains a lot of dead weight."

Zelda was about to add her congratulations, but the deadly duo of Sheik and Tira was suddenly in front of her, looking anything but happy.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

"What _were_ you thinking?!"

Great minds think alike, Zelda thought, deciding to cut the inevitable lecture short by drawing them both into a hug. "I'm sorry for worrying you," she said. "But it worked, right?"

"That's not the point—"Sheik began.

"You're _insane_ —"Tira added.

"Yell at me all you like later, but I really think we should get moving," Zelda cut them both off, nodding towards the stagecoach. "Preferably _before_ a patrol shows up."

* * *

Sheik wanted nothing more than to spend the next couple of hours yelling at his sister for the decidedly _stupid_ move she had just pulled, but she was, much to his chagrin, right. The longer they stayed here, the bigger the chance of another group of traitors or impostors showing up.

"Fine, but we _are_ talking about this later," Tira said with a growl before stalking towards the stables, where they'd find horses for the coach.

"She has quite a temper, doesn't she?" Zelda said, trying to break the tension.

Unsure of when Tira suddenly became comfortable enough around Zelda to be so...irreverent, Sheik simply scoffed. "Being around you for more than five minutes does that to anyone," he spat, heading towards the guard building, intending to search it for supplies. Link joined him, clearly having similar thoughts.

"That was a nice bit of climbing," he told his lover. "Didn't think you were that nimble."

Link gave a non-committal shrug, like his scaling of the wall (with Elenwe clinging to his back, no less) was nothing special. Sheik made a note to have Link explore what else he could do with his newfound strength.

Thankfully, the guardhouse contained more than enough supplies for the road to Castle Town, and plenty of ammunition and powder for their guns. Sheik wondered what had happened to the real soldiers who'd occupied this station, wondering if they'd been disposed of, or simple been replaced by the impostors.

He and Link filled their packs with food and ammunition, listening to the others arguing about the best way to hitch horses to a wagon. Apparently, Kaura was something of an authority on this, barking orders left and right. Sheik turned to Link with an amused look, intending to make a comment at her expense, but found his lover staring at a heavy iron door, eyes narrowing as a quiet growl could be heard in his throat.

"Link? What's wrong?"

Link didn't answer. Instead, he stalked towards the door and yanked it open like it weighed nothing, revealing a spiral staircase into an unseen basement. Link signed quickly before descending the stairs, Sheik on his heels.

**Smells familiar**

Torches burned brightly in the small basement, and Sheik recognised the barred doors immediately. A detention area, meant to hold those who tried to cross the border illegally. Only one of the cells were occupied, but Link's back was blocking his sight. He only heard the clinking of chains, and the deepening growl from Link. Pushing his way past his lover, Sheik drew a breath...and froze.

Inside the cell, sitting on a cot and absolutely covered in blood and wounds, both fresh and healing, was a face he'd never hoped to see again.

Ascal seemed to share the sentiment, scowling at them as he muttered,

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **One last chapter before the new year!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Links to the fanart by levelout, because it cannot be overstated how awesome it is:**
> 
>  
> 
> [Kaura](http://levelout.deviantart.com/art/Kaura-652851386)  
> [Iteos](http://levelout.deviantart.com/art/iteos-653500613)


	64. The Uneasy Alliance

_A decade later, which felt more like one slightly extended year, it all changed. A meeting of the coven leaders had been called. This was extraordinary—the covens never met outside of the agreed-upon times and dates, and this summons had arrived on horseback, with a strict time limit. Failure to comply would result in destruction._

_Gideon been in a foul mood after receiving the summons, and it only grew fouler when the meeting's topic came to light: him._

_"Your behaviour is unacceptable, Gideon," Pavel, lord of the Night Sons, had claimed. "Your raids are drawing more and more attention to us. The king of Lumina has already sent word to the hunters, asking them to investigate. If they find us—"_

_"You kill them all, naturally," Gideon replied, his voice eerily calm. "The hunters are but a nuisance—surely you and your Sons outnumber any party they would dare send so deeply into the wilderness?"_

_Emory, sitting next to Gideon, had cast a nervous glance at his master. Things never ended well when he was this calm in the face of adversity._

_"It is not a matter of being able to meet them in the field," Pavel argued. "When one party disappears, they will send another, and another. Soon, every hunter on the continent will be on our doorstep...and should they choose to reveal our nature..."_

_"Surely you understand that what we are must remain secret?" Adrianna, once a baroness of a kingdom to the north, now lord of the Dancing Furies, said, adding her voice to the murmurs of disagreement. "Gideon, are you truly willing to start a war with the mortals, all for your own selfish desires?"_

_To that, Gideon had only smiled. It was the smile of a predator. It spoke of danger, and Emory had found himself clenching the armrests of his chair so tightly he tore the fabric._

_"Why not?" Gideon asked, igniting another round of murmurs around the large table. His face hardened, and he slammed his fist down on the oak, which nearly cracked under his strength. "Why should_ we _be the ones to hide? Why should we have to beg and scrape for the one thing we need to survive? We are stronger than them, faster than them, smarter than them—by all rights and natural laws, it should be_ us _sitting on the thrones, ruling every speck of land from pole to pole."_

_"Because we cannot fight the whole world, Gideon," Adrianna had said with a tone that was as condescending as it was exasperated. "You should know this better than most."_

_Gideon snarled. "You do not get to lecture me on my sire's ambitions, wench!" He pointed at each vampire lord at the table in turn, distaste in his every word. "Every man and woman at this table swore their allegiance, promised their support. But when you were truly needed, you turned your tails and fled—"_

_"She was fighting a losing battle, Gideon," Pavel said. "The northern and southern kings were uniting to fight her—"_

_"And the combined might of your covens could have beaten them!" Gideon shouted, kicking his chair so hard it splintered into a million pieces. He turned his back on the coven leaders, shoulders rising and falling as he tried to gather himself._

_"My lord—"Emory began, but Gideon's outstretched hand stopped him._

_"I have given the matter some thought," Gideon said, his voice calm once more. "And I have made my decision."_

_"You will stop your raids?" Adrianna asked carefully._

_Gideon chuckled. "No, my dear Anna," he said as he turned to give her his most hateful glare, the sort that even now, after eleven years, made Emory's bones freeze. "The raids will continue. In fact, I will even escalate them. Build an army."_

_Pavel stood, his face paler than usual. "You would—"_

_"I would finish what_ she _started!" Gideon barked. "And I am even magnanimous enough to offer you the chance to honour the vows you made to her, so long ago. Pledge your support, give me your forces, and I will make you kings and queens."_

_Emory felt his stomach plunging as he watched his master more or less declare war on the entire world. Gideon had grown erratic in the past year, his orders sometimes making little sense, especially in the midst of battle. His brutality had only increased, which in turn had only strengthened Emory's own desire to put an end to the older vampire...but he was still too weak._

_"I will not follow you in this madness," Pavel spat. "The Night Sons will have no part in this."_

_"Nor will my Furies," Adrianna intoned, followed by each and every other vampire lord around the table._

_Gideon did not look outraged. It was more like he had expected this exact answer. "That is quite all right, my friends," he said, watching them. "Truth be told, it is a relief. It means I will not have to share the wealth, once it has been taken. I bid you a good day."_

_"Master, it is not too late," Emory said, following at Gideon's heels as the vampire lord stomped towards the stables. "We can go back, explain that it is all a big misunderstan—"_

_"Emory," Gideon said, pausing. "It is happening. With or without their support. I am tired of skulking in the shadows, tired of playing second fiddle to the uppity lords and ladies of the land." He tucked his horned helmet under his arm, having never removed his armour unlike the others. "It has been on my mind since before we met—I was a fool to abandon my mistress' dream. I do not intend to make that mistake again." He placed his heavy hand on Emory's shoulder, like he always did, smiling. "You are the youngest of us—the freshest of my kin. All I want to know is, are you with me?"_

_As he grew older, Emory would often find himself wishing he'd said yes, that he'd become the loyal companion Gideon had wanted him to be. However, his younger self, the one who'd still resented the vampire that had destroyed his old life, had shook his head, turning his back on Gideon._

_"That saddens me, Emory," Gideon said. "It has been eleven years—do you still hate me so?"_

_"I do," Emory confirmed._

_"I see...well, then perhaps the next time we meet, you will make good on your promise to me." He drew his finger over his throat. "I recommend slicing my throat before trying to pull my head off—makes it a little easier."_

_"I'll remember that."_

_"Good."_

_"Until next time, then, Gideon."_

_"Until next time, Phaeron."_

* * *

Ascal had been alive for too long. He knew this now. His failure to stem the tide of memories that continually seeped into his skull after his encounter with Impa and his old home was only the last symptom in a long line of them, which he'd steadily ignored as he delved into his work—first with the hunters, and then for Lord Camdessus.

The fact that two of his three targets, the individuals he had set out to hunt in the first place, were standing on the other side of the bars of his cell, alive and well, was only a further confirmation of his utter inadequacy at living up to his gift. Holding back the expletive was akin to damming up a river, and at this stage, riddled with bullets and hunger consuming him from within, he just couldn't be bothered.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." he muttered, scowling petulantly at the Sheikah and the Hylian, who apart from a few cuts and scrapes looked to be entirely untouched by the damage wrought at the Studio. Though...Link smelled differently than he had before. There was a...beastly quality to his scent.

For a moment, neither of the two moved, only staring at the very interesting specimen contained in the cell. Ascal heard a low growl emanating from the Hylian, which only further confirmed his suspicions. They'd certainly had some form of adventure since they'd last met, it seemed...

Sheik was the first to move. Drawing his pistol, he marched directly up to the bars and took aim. "Any last words?" he muttered darkly, cocking the gun.

Ascal, too weak from hunger and blood loss, could do little else but shrug. "You've tried that already," he told the Sheikah, still remembering the utterly humiliating way the boy had gotten the drop on him during their last encounter. Just another sign that he was old, really... "It didn't work."

"I only fired once, back then," Sheik said. "Here, I've enough bullets to turn you into mush."

Ascal nodded. "That would do it...for a time. I probably won't return in your lifetime, but sooner or later I will be back." He cocked his head to the side, studying the boy. Smarter than he gave the impression of, that was for sure. Had he been like certain other members of his family, Ascal would already have been turned into the aforementioned _mush_. Honestly, right now, that idea was quite tempting.

"How do I kill you, then?" Sheik asked, as Link hovered at his shoulder, giving Ascal the fiercest glare he'd ever been on the receiving end of...and with piercingly grey eyes, too.

"Now, why on earth would I tell you that?" Ascal asked with an amused smile, ignoring how it tore at his cracked skin, reopening cuts and wounds the ruffians upstairs had put on him. "If the hunters did not see fit to inform you of how to properly kill a vampire, I see no reason to elucidate on the matter myself." He looked pointedly at Link. "I think you will find it just as difficult to kill me as it is to kill your lupine friend here, though."

Their eyes widened comically, and Ascal took a moment to savour the confusion he'd caused, only for the enjoyment to evaporate as he remembered he had centuries on these...these _children_ , and that it was not a flattering indication for his intellect. Still, that wasn't his intent. He needed to buy time, buy goodwill. Clearly, they knew _nothing_ about what Link was dealing with, what he was becoming. He didn't seem very far into his transformation, after all.

"Surprised?" he asked the mute companions. "I could smell it on him the moment he set foot inside the room. The eyes are a giveaway as well." He leaned back against the rough stone wall, ignoring the way the dried blood on his back cracked and broke. Disgusting. "Had a little encounter with a wolfos, did you?"

"Wolfos?" Sheik intoned.

"Just an old word for wolf, really, no longer in use apart from within the hunters...and apparently not even with you, if you have never heard it before." He tilted his head to the other side. In situations like these, keeping up a blitz of information was key. It kept them from focusing too much on the present, on the fact that he was at their mercy. "Then again, perhaps you all thought them extinct."

"Is that the thing that turned him?" Sheik demanded, falling for the bait. Too easy. "The thing that creates lycanthropes?"

Ascal nodded. "The very same." He frowned. "It's strange—I'd have thought that information would be closely guarded and disseminated within your ranks...unless you've simply forgotten it? Granted, lycanthropes have been relatively rare in the past century or so, perhaps it simply slipped from your minds? Or, someone chose to keep it hidden..."

The truth was far simpler than that, of course. The hunters had never known. Ascal had chosen not to share that particular piece of information with his supposed brothers and sisters. It had never seemed prudent—the extermination conducted by the vampires themselves had all but wiped the damn things out, and the steady trickle of lycanthropes that followed was nothing compared to the sheer number they'd encountered back then. Easily handled by the hunters.

Link growled, touching Sheik's shoulder and making some strange signs with his hands. Had the boy become literally mute? He remembered the young Hylian talking up a storm when they'd first met in Castle Town...

"Is something wrong with his voice?" Ascal asked, knowing he had to keep himself wedged in the metaphorical door, before Sheik was able to make up his mind about killing him.

"The Alpha...the wolfos...tore his throat out, it didn't heal right," Sheik said.

That was odd. The wolf's healing ability should have restored Link completely...something must have gone wrong, then, or the original wolfos had been sick. Not that Ascal cared—he'd never had the opportunity to study one up close, having been too busy trying not to get killed whenever he met one.

"Unfortunate," Ascal intoned, giving Link a sympathetic look. "Yours was such a lovely voice, too."

"Don't speak to him," Sheik growled. "In fact, don't speak at all!"

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have been asking questions," Ascal replied, looking at him calmly, which he knew would drive the boy insane. It was fun, watching how the anger had seemingly paralysed him, unable to pull the trigger of the gun that was still firmly aimed at Ascal's head. "I would like to offer my condolences, by the way."

"I don't want them."

"I offer them regardless—it is only the right thing to accept them, for your aunt's sake, if not yours."

"Do not speak of her," Sheik spat, sticking his arm through the bars until the gun barrel was resting firmly against Ascal's forehead. It was refreshingly cold. "You _killed_ her, you don't _get_ to act sympathetic about it!"

Ascal blinked. "Actually, you're wrong. I didn't kill her. Young Rane, son of Dane, was responsible for that. We were in the middle of a refreshing duel when he decided to interfere, and shot her in the back. I had him killed immediately, of course, but it was too late...and then Impa, unpredictable as ever, set off her trap."

He chuckled at the memory of her last words, enjoying how much it unsettled her nephew.

"Admirable, and probably would have caused me a considerable delay in going home, but it seems I was exceedingly lucky in that some debris protected me from the blast. I could have done without the broken foot, but I'll take that over being torn to pieces and distributed over a wide area." He noted the gleam in Sheik's eye and shook his head. "That won't do it either, by the way, sorry to disappoint you."

"E-Even if you didn't kill her, you still killed the rest—"

"Only a few—Rane's men took care of the rest. Gave them every chance to surrender along the way."

"You led them—"

"Rane did."

"Shut up!"

Ascal held his chained hands up in a defeated gesture. "But, true, I set him on the path...but only because I saw no other way."

"Why?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

It hadn't occurred to him previously, that he was taking his mission to hunt down Sheik and Link a mite too far. Even before he realised he was on the trail of the real Princess Zelda, he'd been prepared to go to drastic lengths to ensure their capture and deaths. All for a bunch of slaves? No, that wasn't it. Looking back, he realised he'd been overzealous for the same reason so many hunters met their deaths at an early age—the hunt itself. It was exhilarating and addicting in a way that simply could not be described—even more so than his own urges, courtesy of his never-ending hunger.

The hunt...and Jerewin. Anything his lord wanted, he got. Ascal had been seeing to that since he was a child. And in turn, Ascal got what _he_ wanted...perhaps...

Of course, his rambling thoughts would not be satisfactory to the young Sheikah outside his cell, so Ascal offered a half-truth instead:

"The princess, naturally," he said. "The moment I realised she was with you, it changed everything. I saw a path to change, to rejuvenate Hyrule in a way she could never hope to. If she could be controlled, perfect...but her death would suffice, to put someone else in charge."

"Like your Lord Camdessus?"

Now it was Ascal's turn to blink in confusion. How had they traced it back to Jerewin?

"We saw the papers," Sheik supplied, his pain and hurt quickly masked by another steely glare. "His dedication to the princess' memory...so touching. What, was he too scared to do his own dirty work?" Sheik scoffed. "Not that it matters—once you're dealt with, he's next."

No. No. No. Nonononononononononononononoononononononononono

"You can't," he said simply. It had multiple meanings.

"Why not, pray tell?" Sheik asked. "You're trapped down here, and since you haven't escaped yet, I'm guessing you're too wounded to do so. If I shoot you in the head right now, you won't be leaving for quite a while."

If. _If_. That was enough of a lifeline for Ascal to cling to. He'd gladly let Sheik shoot him in the head several times if it meant a chance to save Jerewin.

"The men outside," Ascal said. "I take they tried to kill you?" He'd heard the gunshots and screams. "You'll get similar treatment everywhere else, I can assure you. You'll never get to him."

"If we bring them your head, we might."

Ascal chuckled. "You'll be celebrated for bringing my head, but they will kill you all the same. Jerewin Camdessus is not in charge, I can assure you."

"Then who is, if not him, and not you?"

Sheik was calmer now—anger and grief buried beneath a sense of purpose. Ascal could even see a little glimmer of reason in his eyes, though Link was still clearly in favour of tearing Ascal to pieces with his bare hands. How much of that was instinct and how much was genuine desire, Ascal didn't know.

The realisation that he actually needed to play the diplomat here was unsettling—as well as knowing that he needed their _help_.

Don't worry, he told himself. You can kill them all afterwards.

"Her name is Dehl," he offered. Neither of them recognised the name. Not surprising. She'd always excelled at keeping herself in the shadows...for the most part. She, like him, occasionally had lapses. "She is a vampire, like me. I put her in charge of securing the princess' decoy...but it seems she decided to disobey me and killed her instead." He lowered his head. "For what reason, I do not know. Perhaps she decided the old man had been calling the shots for long. My lord is a puppet for her as much as the princess would have been for him..."

" _Another_ vampire?"

Sheik's words were more exasperated than despairing. That was almost amusing.

"Correct," he confirmed. "A rather young one, at that. Dangerous."

"I've killed you once already," Sheik said, tugging his collar down and removing his hat. The air down here was rapidly getting warmer thanks to Link. His kind always ran rather hot. "I can take her. _We_ can take her." He looked to Link, who nodded firmly.

"I realise I do not look it, but I am long past my prime," Ascal said firmly. "She is not. You won't be able to pull the same trick on her, and you have no hope of keeping up with her speed and strength." He caught Sheik's eyes with his own. "Make no mistake, son of Iana, if you go up against her, you _will_ die."

He wasn't sure if it was him invoking the name of Sheik's mother, or the seriousness of his tone, but that actually seemed to get through to the boy in front of him, and the pistol dropped until it was pointing at the floor.

"Let me guess," Sheik said, "it takes a vampire to kill another vampire?"

"Nothing so drastic," Ascal replied. "Killing a vampire can be done by anyone as long as they know how—it's getting them to the point where they _can_ be killed that is the problem. Luckily, old as I am, I am still more than able to handle her...with some support."

"You couldn't even handle the soldiers upstairs," Sheik argued.

"I was already weak from hunger and my injuries," he countered. "I believed them to be on my side...until they weren't." He looked at his feet, wondering where his other boot had gone. Who the hell would go through the trouble of stealing a single boot? "I'm not saying I can take on an army by myself...but if we join forces..."

There were better ways of conveying his proposal, probably, but he could tell that the young men in front of him were rapidly running out of patience...and hedged all his bets on this one gambit. He needed allies to get to Dehl, and they needed him to weaken her. Depending on how much she'd decided to dig in, she had a potential _army_ standing between them and Jerewin...and he had no intention of letting that remain a fact for much longer.

Then, once Jerewin was secure, Ascal could cut off all loose ends...and then what?

"Are you actually suggesting we work together?" Sheik asked, voice incredulous. "Are you insane? Why the hell would I want to help _you_ , who've killed more of my friends and family than I can count?"

Link was growling again, making his opinion quite understood. Ascal briefly considered using the obviously close relationship between them (Sheik almost _reeked_ of the lupine scent he smelled on Link as well) against them, but decided not to. That was a trump card for later.

"I am not proclaiming my innocence," Ascal said. "And I've no intention of not taking responsibility for my actions. Help me deal with Dehl and secure my lord...and you can do whatever you like with me. I won't fight, I won't struggle."

He wouldn't, but Sheik would die before he realised that.

"I only ask that Jerewin Camdessus is left in peace."

Link stepped forward at that, only held back by Sheik's hand on his shoulder.

"Lord Camdessus ordered the slaver attack on Ordon, didn't he?" Sheik said. "He's to be arrested—"

"He ordered it, but it wasn't his idea," Ascal protested. "Not entirely..."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's...complicated."

How to explain the complex mechanics of the back-and-forth between a vampire and their donor to mere mortals, when even Ascal himself didn't fully understand it? In the past, it had been considered magic. Now, it was an infinitely complicated combination of chemicals and biological processes no one had even found a way to study, much less confirm?

At this stage, vagueness was his ally, even, so Ascal simply maintained that.

"Complicated?" Sheik asked.

"Complicated," Ascal repeated. "Give me a little time, and perhaps I can explain it further." He nodded. "And speaking of time, we are rapidly running out of it. The guards alerted Dehl about my presence when I was captured—it is only a matter of time before the men sent to fetch me arrive here." He shook his chains for emphasis. "You need to make up your mind, hunter."

Dehl's men would still be hours away, but he felt a little urgency was required to encourage the Sheikah to make a decision. He'd given them as much information as he dared, and if that wasn't enough to convince them, he'd rather be taken to his wayward daughter.

...better not tell them that.

The pair of hunters shared a long look, and Sheik finally nodded towards the door. "Find the keys—explain the situation to the others as best you can. Make sure Zelda is protected."

Ah, so the princess was alive as well. That was good. Then he could appeal for Jerewin's life directly.

Link did not seem fond of the idea, but eventually did as Sheik asked, hands moving in that strange sign language again before leaving.

"I'll be careful, don't worry," Sheik said softly, before his face hardened and turned once more to Ascal. "I suppose you already know what will happen if you go back on your word?"

"Shot to mush, torn to pieces," Ascal listed up. "Generally lots and lots of pain. Somewhere in that area?"

"Lots of pain, and then eventually death," Sheik said. "Whatever knowledge the hunters had of vampires did not survive the Studio, but I am more than willing to commit to researching how to kill them again. For the greater good, of course."

"Sounds fair," Ascal muttered.

"And your lord? He will share your fate."

The very thought of Jerewin suffering the pain and indignities the hunters would visit upon Ascal nearly made him snarl, but he kept himself to a mute nod. "I will behave, don't worry."

Just you wait, boy. When we're done, I might be tempted to make _you_ suffer a bit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everybody!


	65. The Ranch

A thousand times he could have tried, and Link would _still_ not have been able to guess who would be waiting for them in that holding cell beneath the border station. The scent of blood had been thick in the air—he'd smelled it through the metal door, and it had only become stronger when they'd descended. Link's sense of smell hadn't been nearly as sensitive when he'd first met Ascal—if it had, he felt he could have sensed it was the bastard right away.

He wished Sheik hadn't followed him, wished he'd had the chance to put the monster out of his misery before his presence became known. But he'd frozen, too surprised to do anything about it, and Sheik had suffered as a result.

His lover didn't say it out loud, but Link could see it in the tense shoulders as they rode deeper into Hyrule, staying off the road in case the other vampire's—this Dehl's—men were watching them. They'd already passed the group ostensibly sent to retrieve Ascal, which meant that their cover would soon be blown. That meant they had to find shelter. Ayla, to everyone's surprise, had immediately suggested a place she guaranteed they'd be safe, if only for the sheer number of people that passed through it at any time.

So, Lon Lon Ranch it was. Link knew of the place—biggest dairy farm in the kingdom—but had never seen it with his own eyes. He found he looked forward to it. His father had always spoken highly of its owner, a man named Talon, though Link had never quite figured out the relation, given the sheer affection in his father's voice whenever Talon's name was mentioned.

But that was a riddle for another day, and perhaps a question for the man himself. His mate...his _lover_ , damn it! His _lover_ looked ready to explode in his saddle, and Link dug his heels into his mount's sides to come up alongside him. The mare was more than a little cantankerous, and was difficult to work with. Nothing like Epona, he thought bitterly.

Sheik didn't look at him, his eyes firmly trained on Ascal's back. The vampire rode ahead of them, between Kafei and Sheik, with Ayla keeping a close eye from the side of their formation. If he tried anything, Ascal would find himself surrounded in seconds. So far, however, he had remained true to his word. He had behaved. Link found himself wishing he wouldn't, so he'd have an excuse to test his strength against that of a vampire. As it were, he kept his Zukov close and loaded.

When Sheik didn't react to his presence, Link made the trilling sound that had become his primary means of communication whenever he couldn't speak with his hands. It wasn't much, and was only useful for conveying tone rather than meaning, but he hoped that he put enough worry into the sound for Sheik to realise what he wanted.

Assurance. His mat— _lover_ was not in a good place mentally right now, and Link wanted to help. His entire pack, really, but it revolved around Sheik, who remained the priority.

Sheik sighed, breath fogging in the cold air, and finally looked at him. He was exhausted. The bags beneath his eyes said as much, coupled with the slight tightness between his eyebrows that spoke of the headache that still wouldn't leave him alone. Every time he saw it, Link felt a pang of guilt strike him. He shouldn't have dropped Sheik in the tunnel—he'd probably given the Sheikah a concussion that way...or triggered some sort of permanent migraine.

"I'm fine, Link," Sheik muttered, leaning over to pat his arm in what was probably meant to be an assuring matter. It was anything but.

Link gave him a look that conveyed his lack of conviction.

Sheik sighed again. "All right, maybe I'm not fine, but this isn't really the time to have a heart-to-heart, you know?" He glanced ahead, eyes narrowing at Ascal's back. "I just...I want to kill him. I want nothing more than to tear him apart until there's naught but _shreds_ left...but I don't know if even _that_ will work, or if it'll just delay him, and he'll become some _other_ poor son of a bitch's problem in the future. And the worst part? We need him, if what he said about this Dehl is true."

Frankly, Link still had his doubts about the truth of Dehl's existence. It smacked too much of a desperate man's last attempt to save himself. It was too convenient. But Sheik had been convinced, as had the others...after the initial outrage had died down.

Zelda refused to have anything to do with him, keeping at the back of their column with Tira and Elenwe, and the non-hunters. The others weren't too keen on being close to the man who'd destroyed their home either, but the worst one was Lor.

The look on Lor's face when Ascal's presence in their midst had been explained, and his reaction to being told they needed him _alive_? He had looked betrayed. Not angry, not sad, not disappointed, just...utterly betrayed, and he had slunk to the back of their column, joined by Ard and Erd.

The remaining hunters had listened to Sheik's explanation, and while there had been some arguments, Kafei had silenced it by accepting it, and immediately arranging the security aspect. The vampire was never to be left alone.

Kaura had made no comment, but Link noticed that she kept herself between Ascal and Tao, as if shielding her apprentice from the monster. Understandable. Link had to fight the urge to do the same with everyone in the pack— _group_ , fuck!

He choked on the growl. The Beast just wouldn't let up. Changing the way he referred to his friends and family seemed innocuous enough, but what would be next? He didn't dare take that chance. He firmly told the thing to stay at the very back of his mind, but it only chuckled in response. At least it didn't start talking to him. That'd be unsettling, having a second voice in his head.

"It's true," Ascal said quietly, not even turning towards them.

"I didn't ask you," Sheik replied. "In fact, just be quiet until you're spoken to, yeah?"

"Right you are, master."

Sheik growled under his breath, and Link fought the urge to pounce on him. The sound was simply too...compelling. " _I hate him so much_ ," the Sheikah muttered.

Link trilled again, agreeing. This was the man responsible for all the suffering he'd been through in the last half year, and he was within reach. That he wasn't allowed to touch even a hair on his head was maddening! The fact that Ascal apparently knew a lot more about what Link was becoming than he let on was even worse—it almost made Link wonder what would happen if a wolfos, Alpha, whatever he was, bit a vampire. Would the lycanthrope disease transfer over, perhaps? That'd be an interesting sight. The Beast certainly approved of the idea...

"How long to Lon Lon Ranch?" Kafei asked from the head of the column. His Sheikah eyes let him stake out a course in the complete darkness they were travelling through, the moon long since obscured by the storm clouds that continued to roll in. The temperature was already falling. It was a bit of a blessing, really, since the storm would cover their movements and hide their tracks.

"Not far," the Gerudo said, somewhere off to the side. She'd weaved in among the trees, keeping her movements obscured and unpredictable. Link doubted it had the intended effect—Ascal didn't seem bothered by this at all. "Another few hours, at this pace."

"And you're sure we'll be welcomed?" Kafei demanded.

"I'm sure," Ayla said firmly. "And if not, just wave the princess their faces and they'll fall over themselves trying to let us in."

"How do you know them, anyway?" Sheik asked, seemingly glad for any distraction from the leech in front of them.

"Oh, I stopped by from time to time when I was visiting relatives in the Valley. Made friends with the family that runs it."

Kafei snorted. "Ayla, in all the time I've known you, you've never made friends _that_ easily."

"Fine, so I _may_ also have ended a fight in their tavern that threatened to turn into a riot—saved them a lot of property damage."

"Ayla—"

"The fact that I _started_ the fight means nothing!" she snapped.

"What was the fight even about?" Sheik asked.

"Had to defend someone's honour," was all the Gerudo offered in response, and the conversation died soon after. Link didn't leave Sheik's side after that.

The temperature continued to fall, and even Link's teeth were chattering by the time the gated and walled community of Lon Lon Ranch came into view, smack-dab in the middle of an open field. That didn't mean the place looked uninviting—the walls were created by a natural series of cliffs and outcrops, the remains of an old crater, which made it look less severe. Hundreds of lights twinkled from the wooden buildings that could be seen over the walls, and even from this distance they could hear the music being carried on the wind.

"They always knew how to throw a party," Ayla said, a proper smile on her face for once, instead of wry grins and sarcastic bearings of teeth.

"At four in the morning?" Kafei asked, taking a quick look at his pocket watch.

"They're veterans."

"No time to waste, then, I feel like I'm about to turn into an icicle," Sheik said. "Move, vamp."

"I really must protest against the slurs," Ascal said, doing as he was told anyway. The cold didn't seem to bother him at all—he looked perfectly content in his saddle. "My name will do just fine."

"Too bad we don't know what it is, then, isn't it?" Sheik said. " _Emory_?"

"Play your cards right, and I might let _you_ call me uncle, too," the vampire countered. "Ascal will do fine for now, though."

"Whatever you say, leech."

Link smiled under his collar. At least Sheik's spirit hadn't been broken at having to cooperate with his family's killer. At the first sign of that, however, Link would be ready to exact bloody punishment on the bastard.

He could still smell the horse blood wafting from the man riding ahead. He felt sorry for the animal that had been sacrificed to settle Ascal's hunger...

* * *

There had definitely been some sort of party going on earlier that night—the narrow streets between the farm buildings were littered with empty bottles, food containers, confetti, and impressions of passed-out bodies in the snow. The participants themselves had clearly moved inside hours ago, their loud voices and even louder music audible from the gate area.

The guards had taken one look at the group and denied them entrance, but Ayla, true to her word, had invoked her name and demands to be let inside. They had chosen _not_ to involve Zelda this time, in case any of Dehl's men were around. Once Ayla had identified herself, they'd been let in no questions asked, which Link had found highly suspicious at first, but then _she_ had appeared.

She looked to be a little older than Link and Zelda—perhaps twenty, twenty-two, somewhere around there. Her hair was red like fire, tied into braids for the occasion. She wore a simple, white dress with blue details (little blue cows, in fact), seemingly nothing but a simple milkmaid or farm girl...but her posture and commanding tone was that of someone used to being in charge. She was pretty, in a somewhat rough and down-to-earth manner, like many of the girls in Ordon. It seemed...more real, unlike the artificial beauty of the high society ladies Link had seen at Zelda's party in Castle Town.

She looked at the group, studying each member in turn, before her eyes landed on Ayla, who suddenly looked uncharacteristically nervous. She even removed her _hat_ , which Link hadn't seen her do _once_ in all the time he'd known her. She offered the woman a hopeful smile, which fell when she came to a halt in front of the hunter, glaring at her.

Ayla opened her mouth, but the slap silenced her before she could speak. It echoed across the courtyard-like area. It left Kafei gaping.

Touching her cheek, Ayla looked chastened as the newcomer clearly took her time to choose her words.

"What the hell were you thinking, leaving like that?" the Hylian woman said, shoulders shaking as she drew Ayla into a tight hug. "When you weren't there the next day, I thought...I thought—"

"I'm sorry, Mal," Ayla said sincerely, pulling out of the hug to caress her cheek...and then kissed her soundly. The other woman looked resistant at first, but then melted into it, linking her arms around Ayla's neck. Seemingly ignoring the collective gaping mouths around her, Ayla withdrew from the kiss and hugged the woman once more. "Something came up that required my attention, and I knew if I told you you'd want to come along, and it was too dangerous, and—"

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it," the woman said, pushing Ayla away, looking her over. "I'm just glad you're all right. Figured I wouldn't hear from you until spring, at least..."

"It's a long story," Ayla said with a sigh. "For now, I was wondering if you had some rooms for me and my friends."

"Of course," she replied. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

"Thanks," Ayla whispered, kissing her cheek. Then she turned to the group. "Guys, this is Malon. She owns the place—it's on her mercy we throw ourselves, so you'd better behave or she'll bring out the branding iron."

"She's only joking...partly," Malon said with a wink. "Welcome to Lon Lon Ranch—I'd offer you a tour, but from how tired y'all look, I'm gonna guess the first thing you'll want to see is a bed. My boys'll take care of your horses—follow me, and I'll lead you to the guest house."

There was definitely a story to be told there, but Link resolved to bug Ayla about it in the morning. A quick guard-schedule was arranged, where the hunters took turns watching Ascal, who was chained to his bed carefully. Malon, to her credit, did not question why one of her guests seemed to be a prisoner...though Link had a feeling she'd get her answers soon enough, since Ayla did not stay with them in the guest house, opting instead to follow the ranch's owner after she'd seen to her guests.

"Now there's something I'd never expected to see," Sheik muttered as he slid into bed next to Link, who took the opportunity to curl around him, like he always did, acting as a shield for the Sheikah. It was his own way of telling Sheik he was safe, if only temporarily. Had it been up to Link, the entire p— _group_ would have been staying in this one room, but there had been...considerations that had to be taken into account. Link made a questioning noise, his eyes already drifting shut from exhaustion. "Ayla...with someone other than Myde."

Link made another confused noise, and Sheik only chuckled.

"Myde—another hunter. He's a Zora, and those two hate each other more than anything in the world...so, naturally, they _have_ to be involved on the side. Hate that passionate does not stem from nothing...guess they have some sort of arrangement." He yawned, snuggling his face into Link's chest. "She's pretty, though, Malon..."

Link growled.

"Not as pretty as you, Link."

Damn right she's not, Link thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude, because I'm drunk, whee!


	66. The Meeting

"All of them?"

"Yes, mistress."

Dehl forced herself not to slam her fist on the table top, knowing it would only make her look even more of a petulant child than she already did. To his credit, Avi did not comment on her clenched fists, standing perfectly at ease in front of the desk of the recently departed Lord Camdessus.

This was a disaster. First she loses the little lord, then the hunter's little birds, and _now_ Ascal had escaped from his cell at the border. Everything was unravelling faster than she could even attempt to catch hold of the threads. The next council session was in a week, and unless she could produce the little lord to convey her plans, the remaining nobles would immediately start fighting amongst themselves. As effective as her little purge of their parents were, she could not kill the current generation of nobles—she _needed_ them, as much as she hated to admit it.

It almost tempting to just leave, and let Hyrule collapse in on itself. She'd lie low for a while, and then try again elsewhere. As far as the others were concerned, she did not even exist. It'd be hard for anyone to prove that it wasn't all Lord Camdessus' doing—after all, what sort of great lord would let himself be controlled by a frail, little woman with a penchant for dressing in black?

But Ascal wouldn't let this go. She knew her father better than to assume that he would. She'd always resented his lack of ambition, but his vengeful streak had more than made up for it. The things he'd done...the stories he'd told...she could live for another two centuries and only _hope_ to make as much of an impact as he had. All for revenge.

If he'd been willing to enact the Accord and hunt as he did, what lengths would he go to in order to punish _her_? She was his daughter, but Jerewin...he was _everything_ to Ascal, for reasons she could not fathom. There was nothing remarkable about him—his blood was sweet, certainly, but not to the point she'd dedicate her very being to it. And it couldn't be love, and she dearly hoped it wasn't the _carnal_ sort, because the thought of the two of them together was...nauseating.

Avi cleared his throat, giving her an expectant look. She motioned for him to continue.

"The horses were gone, except for one. Dead. Drained. He must have had help," he said. "The guards who contacted us were killed by normal means. Bullets, cuts, and...this." He stepped forward and placed what looked like a crossbow quarrel on the desk, though it was smaller. Dehl recognised it immediately.

"The hunters are helping him," she said, nonplussed. According to the report, he'd arrived alone. "Why?"

"Mistress?"

"This is a projectile fired by a weapon known as a Zukov," she said. "An automatic crossbow driven by clockwork. Complicated stuff, and used by hunters a long time ago. Ascal has spoken of them, in the past." She touched the quarrel. Flakes of dried blood fell on the desk. "How many were there, do you think?"

"Number of footprints suggested at least ten, maybe more. Prints didn't match the boots worn by the guards." Avi looked uncomfortable. "Storm blew the tracks away, and we lost them."

As if for emphasis, a strong gust rocked the foundations of the house, rattling the chandelier above them.

"So, my master has escaped, and he has hunters helping him for gods know what reason," she said, leaning back in her chair. It was remarkably comfortable. "We're in trouble, Avi."

"Yes, mistress."

Realistically, she knew there was no way for Ascal and his hunter friends to enter the city without her knowing. Hell, they wouldn't get anywhere _near_ the gates on normal roads. The gates were the only way inside—and as tough as her father was, he could not take on an army by himself, not even with the support of his hunter friends.

...but on the other hand, this was Ascal. He had never told her just how old he was, but she suspected he was _very_ old. He had the wisdom and determination of centuries behind him, as well as the fighting experience. If anyone could find a way into the city, it was him. And once he got inside, her time was up. There was no way he'd let her live after this.

"Contact the Watch and the Minister of Defence," she told Avi. "Inform them that a dangerous criminal matching Ascal's description is on the loose, and that Lord Camdessus wants him caught immediately. Send patrols into the countryside, have them search house by house if they have to. No one rests until Ascal has been found."

"Yes, mistress."

"Once you're done, I want you to continue your search for our wayward lord and his little escorts," she continued. "The sooner they're found, the better. Kill the boy and the girl—they made their loyalties clear. If possible, kill the boy first. Make her see what happens when she scorns an offer of mine. Bring the lord back here, and chain him up. He clearly can't be trusted to wander around."

Avi nodded and made to leave, pausing when she too rose and strode towards the door. "Mistress?"

"I will take no chances in this, my dear Avi," she told him, touching his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch. "Ascal's newfound allies have given me an idea. I intend to make the most of it. I will be back by midnight."

"Be careful, mistress."

"You too, Avi."

* * *

The ranch's private dining room was deemed a suitable place to hold their meeting. It was sheltered from the rest of the guests, allowing the hunters, the princess, their allies, and the vampire to speak in private. Malon, by virtue of providing them with shelter and more food than any of them knew what to do with, was allowed to attend as well. She was giving them all a narrow-eyed look from the head of the table, Ayla sitting at her right. Kafei was on her left.

"Before we start," she said, studying her guests carefully again. "I have to ask: this isn't some conspiracy, is it? I'll have no part in any sort of political shenanigans."

"Conspiracy?" Kafei asked. "I don't understand..."

"Well, for one thing you appear to have the Princess of Hyrule in your midst...or someone who looks very much like her, at least. The _dead_ princess, I'll add." Malon gestured to Zelda, who did not look happy about being in the spotlight. "Since I doubt my Ayla's gotten involved in a coup—she's not _that_ stupid—"

"Hey!"

"—I'm guessin' she's the _real_ princess, and that she ain't dead at all." She inclined her head at Zelda. "In which case, welcome to my humble ranch, Your Majesty."

"I thank you for your hospitality, Miss Malon," Zelda replied, inclining her head regally and allowing her noble accent to emerge. "Your help is appreciated, and I can assure you that we will trouble you no more than is absolutely necessary—and compensation will of course be due in the future."

Malon's brows rose. "Well, I'll be," she muttered. "It really _is_ her..."

"The supposed princess who died at Lake Hylia was my body double, Sera," Zelda explained. "I was taking a leave of absence to visit some friends when certain unruly elements decided to take advantage of this fact." She glanced at Ascal as she spoke, who looked perfectly calm and collected...which was impressive for a man who was wearing metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles. "My death gave them quite a bit of a power, it would seem."

"Well, that's just not acceptable," Malon said, looking at the others. "And these're your friends? I have to admit, I'm surprised. Didn't think the city folk were aware hunters even existed."

"I've always maintained a close relationship with...with them," Zelda said, hesitating to speak of Impa. "Sheik over there," she gestured to him, "is something of an adopted brother, as is Link." She nodded to him. "It is thanks to them that I still live today. The others are friends as well. Doctor Kaura is a physician of good standing from Termina, and Tao is her assistant. Lorasi made himself a friend of the hunters by keeping their secrets, and Ard and Erd have worked with them for years."

"A pleasure," Malon said sincerely. "And you?" she nodded to Ascal. "Don't think I didn't notice your manacles, sir. Care to explain what you've done to earn 'em?"

"I started this whole thing, Miss Malon," Ascal replied smoothly, looking none-too-guilty about it.

Her jaw tightened. "I see...and you're here now because...?"

"We need him," Sheik said. "He's in a...unique position to fix a few things, which is why he's still breathing. The manacles are there because we do not trust him not to run off."

"I wish you'd informed me you were bringing a criminal under my roof," Malon said reproachfully, but nodding all the same. "But I suppose you've got him under control."

"For now," Ascal said, grinning. "I can assure you, miss, you are not in danger from me."

"Given the number of people guarding you, I'd say that's a given," she countered.

"Only because I allow it."

"That's enough from you," Kafei spoke harshly. "Unless what you have to say is relevant to the matter at hand, be silent."

"I only answered a question from our graceful host," manacled man said.

"Don't engage him," Ayla told Malon, taking her hand. "He's an ass."

"I figured," Malon said wryly, smiling at her. She could get lost for days in those golden orbs... She shook her head, and refocused on the group. "Well, now that that's out of the way, please go ahead. I assume we've much to talk about."

"Too much, really," Kafei said with a sigh. He appeared to be the leader of the hunters. Quite young, in Malon's opinion. Not even thirty. He looked tired, though his eyes lit up every time he glanced at the one-armed Gerudo at his side. They had matching earrings. They made a cute couple, Malon thought. "In the broadest strokes possible, how do we announce that the princess is still alive, and that the council is led by a traitor?"

Ascal cleared his throat at the last bit. "I put him up to it," he said.

"I don't care," Kafei said flatly. "So," he said, addressing the group. "How do we do it?"

"The path of least resistance suggests that we capture Camdessus and have him make the announcement himself," Tira, the hunter at the princess' side, said. "As the council leader, it will be difficult to speak against his authority. Historians and genealogy experts can confirm it, of course."

"That requires that we actually _get_ to him, though," Ayla said. "If what we've heard about him is true, he'll be quite closely guarded. As council leader, he'll have the support of not only the Watch, but also the other nobles, all with their own private security forces. Add Dehl's men into the mix—"

"Dehl?" Malon asked.

"That one's little minion," Elenwe, the one next to Kafei, said, pointing at him. "Turned against him, though."

Malon nodded, filing the information away. This situation was quickly growing in scope. She'd first assumed she was just sheltering a party of hunters on their way to hunt monsters, but this...this was politics. She hated politics. Her father would have been of the same mind.

"Technically, she is the one in charge right now," Sheik said, glaring at Ascal. "And the real enemy. We need _him_ for the information on how to take her down."

"The keyword is arrogance," Ascal said mildly, laying his manacled hands on the table. "She is full of it, just like me. She, on the other hand, never learned to rein it in. She is overconfident in her abilities and intelligence—and underestimates everyone else's. A direct confrontation is dangerous, but luring her out will be easy enough. All you have to do is lay a trap—particularly one that involves _me_ as the bait."

"You'd put yourself at risk willingly?" Zelda asked, regarding him the same way one would a worm in an apple.

"I have as much of a desire to put her in her place as you, Your Majesty," Ascal said, his tone conveying the exact same sentiment. "Given the chance, I would certainly like to correct her behaviour. In exchange, of course, I request that—"

"Camdessus goes free, yes, yes, I heard you the first time," Zelda said, dismissing him with a huff. "I will _consider_ it, as long as you follow through on your end of the bargain."

"I am a man of my word, Your Majesty."

"Hah, _man_..." Sheik snorted.

Malon looked at him, wondering what he meant by that, but no one at the table seemed willing to elaborate, so she let it pass. "Guess you've something of a strategy there," she said. "But the lord...?"

"I suspect that once we have dealt with Dehl, we can easily gain access to Camdessus, if she is indeed the little usurper you describe her as," Kafei said, looking at Ascal. "Once we have him...well, the problem is solved. We reinstate the princess on her throne."

"That leaves just one tiny little problem," Elenwe said. "How the hell do we get inside the city? We can't charge straight through the gates—she'll know we're coming, especially after what happened at the border."

Ayla had filled Malon in on the events at the border. Nasty business, but necessary if all she'd been told was true. There hadn't been much talking once they'd secluded themselves in Malon's rooms...

"That will not be much of an issue," Sheik said, looking at Zelda and Link. "Before we left the city, Link and I made use of the secret passage through the western wall. It's been there for centuries, but very few know about it. I highly doubt Dehl does." Link agreed with a nod and a huffing sound.

Malon assumed the poor boy was mute, given he hadn't said a single word since they'd arrived.

"So, we have a way in," Kafei summed up. "We assume we can draw Dehl out—the details of which we'll have to figure out as we go along. And we know what to do once we've secured Lord Camdessus. That's the...basics of a plan, at least."

"I've always found it easier to improvise than stick to a firm strategy," Ayla said. "That's what hunting is about, after all."

"I wish we had something a little firmer, but I agree. Besides, the more time we waste planning, the more time _she_ has to prepare. Unless someone else has something to add, I suppose that is what we'll go with for now."

"I have...a request," Sheik said.

"Go ahead."

"Before this business occurred, I had an extensive network of spies in the city," he said. His voice shook a little, and Malon caught a subtle movement between him and Link. A look was shared—Link's reassuring. Another relationship, then. Malon wanted to smile—they were cute, too. "I would like, if possible, to ascertain its status once we're inside. I'm not naïve enough to believe it's wholly intact, but even if even one member of it remains, they'll have information that could prove vital to our hunt."

There was a slight murmur as the group nodded in agreement. "Anything they can give us will be of use, I'm sure," Kafei said. "Once we're inside, we'll look up your agents. Is there anywhere in particular we should search?"

"I have a number of safe houses set up—provided they haven't been discovered, we can use one of them as a base of operations. That's where my agents will be, as well." Sheik looked relieved as he spoke, clearly having expected a firm _no_ to his request. That was curious. Kafei seemed reasonable in his leadership, if somewhat inexperienced and nervous.

"Right, anything else?" the eldest Sheikah asked.

"The princess stays here," Tira said, her voice sharp.

"Pardon?" Zelda asked, gaping at her.

"We cannot risk bringing the princess into the city," Tira explained, not looking at her. "If she's captured, or worse, _killed_ , then all is lost. We need to minimise the risk, and if Dehl knows we're coming, she'll assume we're bringing them princess as well. She'll tear the city apart looking for her."

"I am more than capable of looking after myself," Zelda said, glaring at Tira.

"I never disputed that, Your Grace, but the fact is that you will be their primary target. Removing you from the equation will make it easier for us to concentrate, as well, since we can focus completely on the hunt, instead of having to protect you."

"I agree," Kafei said, drawing another outraged look from the princess. "With all due respect, bringing you inside the walls is a risk we should not be taking." He looked to Malon, bowing his head in respect. "Miss Malon, I hate to ask even more of you, but would you be willing to shelter the princess until we have settled matters in the city?"

Her father would have jumped at an opportunity like this, patriotic as he'd been. Malon, on the other hand, had always been more sceptical, more careful. This was dangerous. This was the sort of thing people were killed over. If she was caught sheltering the princess, chances were that not only would Malon's life be forfeit, but so would her ranch. Her employees, her father's legacy... Still, duty called, as it always did.

She nodded. "The princess is more than welcome to stay here," she said.

"This is ridiculous!" Zelda exclaimed. "I have no intention of sitting here uselessly while you risk your lives for me! Out of the question!"

"Zelly," Sheik said, fixing her with a gaze. "Remember what we discussed, back then, about your visit?"

His tone was soft, but his eyes were hard. There was an edge to it, and the princess seemed receptive to it. Malon doubted anyone but an adopted brother would get away with speaking to her like that.

"I do," the princess said.

"This is just another round of that, isn't it?" he continued. "I warned you, didn't I? You owe me a favour...and I'm calling it in right now. Please, stay at Lon Lon Ranch until we're done. It would make things a lot easier for everyone involved. Knowing you're safe...it could save a few of _our_ lives as well. All right?"

The bluster and fight seemed to seep out of her at his request. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll stay...but you had damn well better inform me about your success immediately once it has been achieved, understood?"

"Of course, Your Grace."

The princess looked apologetically to Malon. "I am afraid I must impose on you some more, Miss Malon. I can only apologise for the inconvenience."

"No inconvenience here, Your Grace," Malon said, smiling at her. "It's not every day the ranch is visited by royalty, after all."

"Well, with that settled, perhaps we should get going?" Ascal said, rising from his seat. With a single, smooth movement he spread his arms, tearing the thick chain of the manacles apart like paper, sending links flying every which way. The hunters all pulled their pistols on him, but Ascal just stood there with his hands held up. "Easy, easy," he said, chuckling. "Just thought I'd put an end to the charade, is all. My target is Dehl, not you. If I wanted to kill you, none of you would have made it to this ranch."

Malon's jaw had hit the floor somewhere, she was sure of it. "Those...those were steel links..."

"What can I say, Miss Malon, it's all about the mind-set," Ascal said with a shrug. As if to prove his point, he reached down and did the same with the manacles around his ankles. "Now, we're wasting time. Let's get going!"

"One more stunt like that—"Kafei began.

"And you'll kill me, yes, yes, blah blah blah," Ascal said, already heading for the door. "You've all got packing to do. Get to it."

The others shuffled out after him, Kafei and Elenwe immediately catching up to the man and keeping him in their sight. Malon remained seated, staring at a chain link that had landed near her. She picked it up. Bent and torn. How on earth had a man done that? She thought back to Sheik's snort at someone calling him that, and thought...

"Are you all right?" Ayla asked, touching her shoulder gently. They were alone now, the rest of the group's voices disappearing down the hall towards the exit.

"What...what is he?" Malon said, looking at the Gerudo.

"Long story, and frankly, I don't think you want to know," her lover said gently. "Don't worry, though—we'll kill him once this is over and done with. You don't have to be afraid."

Putting the link down, she drew Ayla in for another heated kiss. "Who said I was afraid?" she asked, raising a questioning brow.

Ayla grinned. "I'm mostly packed. Think we have time?"

"We'll _make_ time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, we're at the home stretch now, dear readers!


	67. The Cursed Heart

Tira tried her best to ignore the glaring and sulking princess that was watching her put her admittedly small collection of personal belongings and equipment together. She had a lot of regrets in her still short life, but this would not be one of them. She was just relieved the others had agreed and backed her up.

"I won't apologise," she said as she inspected her firearms before stashing them in her pack. A cursory glance at her knives and sword, before they joined their powder-driven compatriots. "Not for this."

"You treat me like I'm made of glass, like I can't take care of myself," Zelda said sourly. Her arms were crossed, and the pout made her look like a lot younger than she was...not that she was particularly old to begin with. Tira constantly found herself remembering that she had slept a girl not yet twenty (or nineteen, for that matter), which was...she had no words for it. Guilt.

"That's not it at all," she said firmly, tying her pack off and placing it by the door. She looked at the princess with the most genuine eyes she could muster. "I know for a fact you can take care of yourself, that you can fight. Sheik told me of the vampire's first ambush. You handled yourself well."

"Then why are you forcing me to stay behind?" Zelda demanded.

"Because, like it or not, you are the princess of Hyrule. The fate of an entire nation rests on your shoulders, and the head attached to them." She placed both hands on Zelda's shoulders. "You must be protected, regardless of your feelings on the matter."

"You make me sound so helpless," Zelda replied, tensing a little under Tira's hold, but making no effort to pull away.

"You're not, but we will be if something happens to you. As long as we know you're safe here, we will be able to fully focus on our jobs—on the hunt. And we'll need it—we _are_ stealing back your kingdom, after all." She grinned, and Zelda could do little but giggle a little at that.

"I thought hunters didn't get involved in matters like these," Zelda said, looking down. "Impa...Impa always told me you try to stay politically neutral. To focus on beasts, rather than nations and the people in them."

Tira nodded. "We do, mostly. However, this is a serious matter. A vampire has climbed to the top of the political ladder, and is making decisions that affect thousands, if not millions. We can't allow that to continue—even with the best intentions, a vampire will invariably cause nothing but death and disaster."

"You speak from experience?" the princess asked, eyes widening a little.

"It...has happened before," Tira admitted. "The details are scarce; most of our records about it have disappeared, been destroyed, or simply forgotten—and not by accident, I suspect. There used to be a lot more of them, you know. At one point, they fielded entire armies. They were a real threat to those who did not share in their...nature."

"What happened?"

Tira shrugs. "We don't know. This was long before our lifetime—hundreds of years ago. All we know is that their numbers were significantly reduced, and that only a small handful exist to this day, bound by the Accord. Some sort of agreement between them and the hunters."

"Agreement? What sort?"

Again, Tira shrugged. "The details are only known to the master hunters, unfortunately, but the basic gist appears to be a form of non-aggression pact. They keep to themselves and their numbers down, don't attempt whatever Dehl and Ascal have been up to, and we basically leave them alone."

"You've made a deal with monsters, then," Zelda said drily. "Isn't that basically the opposite of what you are supposed to do?"

"I don't make these decisions," Tira admitted. "I only follow orders."

"Believe me, I have a few orders I'd like to give you right now," Zelda said, stepping a little closer to Tira, putting her arms around the older woman. "Would you obey _them_?" she asked, playing with the collar of her coat.

Who was Tira to disobey a princess?

* * *

_The next time had been five years later. Gideon's army was defeated, smashed to pieces by the combined efforts of the other covens, two hunter workshops, and three kings whose lands had been raided by Gideon's vampires._

_Emory had led the pincer movement that separated Gideon's command unit from the rest of the army himself. He'd remembered their tactics, only adjusted for the sheer amount of bodies Gideon had flung at his enemies. Mass turnings on a scale hitherto unseen by even the oldest of the coven leaders. It was no wonder the hunters had agreed to work with them...for a price._

_As Emory stood there, Gideon's head in his hands, his body still twitching at his feet, he felt...empty. He'd hated his sire—still did, in fact—but there'd been...a strange friendship there as well. Gideon had never shown any contempt or enmity towards him. Even as they'd clashed on the field, there'd only been a weak smile on his sire's face...and that last blow, that had opened Gideon's defences and allowed Emory to cut...that had been deliberate._

_Perhaps he'd simply known he'd lost, and was happy that one of his own was going to finish the job? It was impossible to say—Gideon had never been easy to read._

_"You've done well, Emory," Adrianna had said as Gideon's remains were burned to ensure he would not come back. The ashes would be spread to the winds, scattering him. "Gideon's position needs to be filled. It's yours, if you want it."_

_"No," Emory had said, still feeling hollow as he watched Gideon's armour begin to melt and warp from the heat of the fire. Why wasn't he happier, now that he'd fulfilled his promise to kill his family's murderer? "I do not want it."_

_"I see..."_

_She'd left him alone after that, discussing something with the other coven leaders, away from prying eyes. An old woman, a Sheikah, had approached him soon after. She wore hunter leathers, and Emory could vaguely recall her from the strategy meetings before the battle._

_"You are the one who finished him off?" she'd asked, gesturing to the pile of ashes that had once been Gideon._

_"I am."_

_"Well done—he was a tough old bastard."_

_"So they tell me."_

_The Sheikah had fallen silent for a moment, looking at the group of coven leaders with distaste before turning back to him. "You know it's only a matter of time before this happens again, right?" she asked. "They're all part of the same generation, the one that can remember their old masters and their ambitions. Sooner or later, one will decide to further their legacy and try to accomplish what Gideon and his mistress tried to do."_

_Emory nodded. He knew that. The coven leaders had all reacted with horror when Gideon announced his intention at that meeting five years earlier, but he'd also recognised that horror for what it was: Jealousy for not having come up with the idea first._

_"You do not seem to share in this desire," the Sheikah said, looking him up and down. "Young'un, huh?"_

_"Relatively speaking."_

_"Know of any more like yourself?"_

_Emory thought about it. He'd gotten to know several of the younger kin from the other covens in the past five years—people he found to be more...level-headed than many of their lords. "Some," he revealed to the hunter._

_"Then, my boy, you and I have a few things to discuss," the Sheikah said, placing a friendly arm around his shoulders and turning him towards the hunters' camp._

* * *

Ascal blinked, and then scowled. His defences were failing fast, unable to maintain the dam that kept everything at bay. If he wasn't able to shore them up properly soon, he'd be reduced to his base instincts, nothing more than a monster whose desires did not include anything more advanced than feeding and siring. Everything he hated. Everything Gideon had become.

Should have let him kill me, instead of the other way around, he thought. Wouldn't be stuck in this mess if I had.

"Oi, vamp, you still with us?"

He plastered on a fake smile and grinned at Kafei, the temporary master hunter. He did not care much for this boy. He was too uncertain of himself, too wrapped up in caring for his subordinates than _leading_ them. It invited catastrophe. "Still here, o brave leader," he replied.

This hunt would make or break the young Sheikah.

The storm had died down during the day, which was a bit of a problem since they could no longer use it for cover while moving. This meant they could only make progress at night, which was easier said than done when they had to keep off the roads. Tracking through thigh-deep snow, which even their mounts struggled to overcome thanks to treacherous terrain, had slowed their progress considerably, increasing what should have been a three-day journey at most to a crawling five days instead.

It was a relief for everyone when the mighty walls of Castle Town came into view, guardhouse torches flickering in the darkness, and they could turn west.

* * *

Sheik looked closely at the section of the wall where he knew the entrance to the secret passage was located. He and Link had used it to enter Castle Town after their skulker hunt, the one that had ended up in the rather unfortunate destruction of a rather vital piece of the city's infrastructure. He wondered if Zelda was still angry at them for that...

"Over there," he said, pointing to the spot. "Beneath the awning. Looks like a crack in the stonework, but it's a cleverly concealed hatch that opens outwards. Just grab the edge and pull. Make sure to close it firmly behind you, or it'll stick out like a sore thumb."

Concealed in the trees on the other side of the moat, the group confirmed that they did indeed see what Sheik was pointing out to them, and that they knew what to do. The moat itself was frozen, so at least they didn't have to contend with the frigid waters as well.

"We'll be too visible moving across," Ayla noted. "We'll have to split up and go in pairs at irregular intervals, to reduce the chances of being spotted. Cover up your tracks, too." She used a tree branch to whip at the snow, illustrating. "If we're spotted, it's all over."

Sheik swallowed at that. On the way here, they'd had multiple close calls with military and Watch patrols, clearly out searching for Ascal and whoever was helping him. Out there, they could possibly have dealt with the patrols on their own, even if it meant killing good men and women who were only following orders they had no idea were corrupt. Here, however, in the city, they'd be bringing a hammer down on themselves if they were spotted or killed someone. Stealth was key.

"I'll go first," Kafei volunteered. "E, you with me?"

"Of course."

Even if this part of the wall was less defended than the others, there was still an uncomfortable number of guards patrolling up there. One look down at the wrong time, and the two of them would be lit up against the snow-covered ice. The distance itself wasn't very great, but if one of them slipped...

"That crack, right?" Kafei asked, pointing at the same section of wall Sheik had indicated.

"That one," Sheik corrected, adjusting Kafei's finger until it was pointing at the right piece. "You'll know it when you see it. Just grab, and pull. Mechanism might be a little frozen, so don't stop until it opens."

"Fills me with confidence, this," Elenwe said as she hitched her pack properly and tightened the clasps, both to prevent noise and to make sure she didn't drop it. "If I die, I'm coming back to haunt you."

"Looking forward to it," Sheik said wryly.

"Such a sweet little brother-in-law, isn't he?" the Gerudo said, patting his head like he was a dog.

"Right, see you on the other side," Kafei said, glaring when someone in the group snorted at his choice of words.

And they were off. They kept low and moved as silently as their equipment would allow, whisking out their tracks behind them as they went. Sheik's eyes kept straying between them and the flickering lights at the top of the wall, praying that none of the guards decided to actually do their jobs for once, that they were all holing up inside the turrets and playing cards, confident that no one would be _stupid_ enough to attempt crossing the moat here, where there was absolutely no way inside.

His prayers probably didn't have much of an effect, but he still thanked the Goddesses when Kafei and Elenwe reached the other side of the moat, quickly scaling the rocks until they were beneath the protective cover of the wall itself. They sidled along the stone until they reached the crack (on their first try, even), and Kafei began pulling. A loud crack echoed across the moat as the hidden door opened, and Sheik cursed under his breath, watching the pair scrabbling to get inside, shutting it behind them.

Above, on the wall, a light moved back and forth.

"Keep still, all of you," Ayla whispered harshly, practically lying down in the deep snow. The others were mimicking her position, and Sheik winced when he felt his boot slowly filling with melted water. Next to him, Link's eyes hadn't moved from the light.

The guard danced back and forth on the wall for a few minutes before the light retreated to one of the turrets, and Sheik breathed a sigh of relief. _Probably thought it was the ice breaking, or something_ , he thought.

"Right, next two, get ready," Ayla said, looking back at them. "Sheik, Ascal, you're up."

Link huffed, and Sheik glared. "Why do I have to go with _him_?" the Sheikah asked.

"Because I don't trust him with anyone but a hunter, and we need to spread the rest of us out with the mundies," the Gerudo said dismissively. "You've got thirty seconds, move up."

 _Fine, let's just get it over with,_ he thought as he tried to take his place next to Ascal, who'd made no comment about the arrangement. His eyes were firmly on the wall, looking oddly focused and intense, so different from the aloof and easy-going man he liked to portray himself as. Link's hand on his arm stopped him temporarily, and the wolf only growled quietly before kissing him.

Link didn't sign anything, but the meaning was clear.

**Be careful**

"I will," Sheik muttered, then crouched next to Ascal, ready to move.

"How adorable," Ascal said, apparently not above a barb here and there.

"Shut up," Sheik hissed.

"On my mark," Ayla said, holding her hand up. It came down. "Go."

Sheik's boots pounded across the ice, keeping to the trail already created by Elenwe and Kafei before them. His breaths came in short pants, throat hurting from breathing the cold air. Ascal didn't seem bothered as he pulled slightly ahead, not even breathing heavily. In fact, he even gave Sheik an amused look.

"Keep up, little brother," he said mockingly.

Sheik didn't reply. He wondered if Link would be willing to bite Ascal for him—for science, of course. It would be no less than the bastard deserved at any rate.

Further thoughts of revenge were abandoned as they reached the end of the moat. Ascal practically _leapt_ up on the rocks...and then surprised Sheik by crouching down and offering his hand. He took it with some trepidation, and Ascal pulled him up seemingly with no effort, like Sheik weighed nothing. That was...disconcerting. It reminded him of the moment when Ascal had torn his chains apart like wet paper. It only further confirmed he had gotten _massively_ lucky when he'd shot Ascal in the head on their first encounter.

 _No such thing as luck_ , he reminded himself. _We make our own. Just have to outsmart him. Lay a trap._

They reached the hatch, and Sheik allowed Ascal to do the honours. There was no crack this time—Kafei and Elenwe had broken the ice, freeing the mechanism.

"After you," Ascal said, and Sheik slipped inside, quickly followed by the vampire.

The passage beyond the door was narrow, barely wide enough for a single person to come through. It followed a meandering path through the wall, emerging a little further east of the entrance. To throw off pursuers and allow a single soldier to hold off an army, in case the royal escape path was ever discovered.

"To think, I have lived in this city for the past thirty years, and I never even considered the possibility of a path like this existing. Would have come in handy before, I can tell you," Ascal said, a hint of admiration in his voice as they slowly walked through the tunnel. Had Kafei and Elenwe gone ahead to secure their exit?

There were no lights—but none were necessary for Sheik's sake. Ascal didn't seem to have any trouble either, which made sense. His eyes seemed much like those of a cat's, when he'd observed him on the way here, catching the light and reflecting it.

"How old are you, anyway?" Sheik asked, finding the silence of the passage a little unnerving.

"That's not a very polite question," Ascal admonished with a chuckle.

"That old, huh?"

"Hah, good one. Younger than you think, older than I wish."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the one you're getting. Mind you, I would not recommend asking Dehl this question. Vampires in general are...sensitive, when it comes to the matter of age, especially her." Ascal cleared his throat. "Vain creatures, we are."

"Impa said you were a hunter," Sheik continued. "How long were you...?"

"Now, now," Ascal muttered. "This is a line of questioning I don't think you want to continue. It might...ruin the image you have of your friends and family, and the hunters as a whole."

"My friends and family have been reduced to a small handful thanks to you, and I know the hunters have done horrible things in the past," Sheik countered, grimacing as he nearly tripped over a loose flagstone, too focused on questioning the vampire. "I don't think there's anything you could say to make things worse."

"Heh, people always say that, and then I speak, and they wish they'd never asked in the first place, but very well. The tactics, strategies, and a great deal of the tools you use in your daily life as a hunter? Chances are I helped develop many of them."

"Some of those techniques and weapons go back centuries..."

"Exactly."

"Why haven't I ever heard of you, then, if you've been so instrumental to us?"

"That's the question, isn't it?"

Sheik paused, getting some satisfaction when he heard Ascal nearly trip over the same flagstone as he. "Impa said you murdered my grandmother. Is that true?"

"If she said so, then it _must_ be true, right?" the vampire said sardonically, snorting. "Yes, I murdered your grandmother. I took advantage of a weak moment, killed her, and then ran away. Banished forever. Satisfied?"

"Why?"

"Now that's something I don't feel like sharing," Ascal said quietly. "Now quit stalling and move, will you?"

Not satisfied with the answers, but aware that he'd hit a dead end, Sheik continued walking. Light flickered ahead, and then Kafei was waiting, a circular lantern glowing on his belt. "There you are," his cousin said, looking at Ascal with suspicion. "Took your time, huh?"

"We had a little heart-to-heart," Ascal said easily. "Sharing the wisdom of immortality, and all that."

"Not much wisdom to be found there," Sheik said, rubbing his temples. The conversation with Ascal had seemingly awakened the headache he'd thought gone, and that only served to remind him of the tunnel, the explosion, the one Impa had... "We good?" he asked his cousin, who nodded.

"Elenwe's outside, securing the exit. Small backyard."

"House is unoccupied, as I recall," Sheik said. "We can wait inside."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

The rest of the group trickled in slowly but surely. Kafei waited at the end of the passage for all of them, ensuring that every member made it through. Before long, they were all gathered in the old, dilapidated house, taking a moment to get some rest after a long journey.

Ascal kept to himself, keeping watch by a window, anxious to get moving and annoyed by the mortals' need for rest. He appreciated a good sit as much as anyone—the horse blood didn't have nearly the same potency as that of a sapient being—but they had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it in. Dehl was somewhere out there, as was Jerewin.

The idea of charging the Camdessus mansion and killing everything in his past until he found his young lord was tempting, but foolish. Since Dehl knew he was coming, she wouldn't be stupid enough to keep him there...at least not without enough security to stop an army from invading. They wouldn't stand a chance. Not when only seven members of the group were able to fight. Why had the rest of them even been allowed to come?

He heard the fluttering of paper, and watched Sheik spread a map of the city (thoughtfully provided by the inimitable Miss Malon) on the floor, sitting cross-legged as he began to marking down locations. Ascal couldn't see from where he was sitting, but he was sure that Sheik was mapping out his network's safe houses. He almost felt guilty for having started unravelling the thing— _almost_. Dehl had surely continued his work, and he doubted that any of them were still alive. But, the safe houses would come in use as hideouts for the hunters, so...

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with the boy, in the passage. He'd been tempted to tell Sheik the whole story, right then and there, but it was hardly the time for it. Besides, it would...shatter some perceptions of his family and the hunters as a whole—perceptions Ascal needed him to keep intact so Sheik's ability to focus wouldn't be compromised. He could crush the boy later, when all was well.

In fact, he _would_.

* * *

_Culling._

_That was the word the hunters had chosen to describe their proposition. The number of vampires in existence was at an all-time high, thanks to Gideon and his army, and the united covens' need to field similar numbers to actually defeat them._

_It had left the hunters understandably nervous, and in no way willing to simply walk away and head back to their workshops. Something had to be done, and Emory had been their chosen ally. Honestly, given enough time, Emory would have come to a similar conclusion himself. The hunters simply made it easier, offering their tools, experience, and expertise to aid his campaign._

_He gathered allies, the vampires he knew did not share their lords' opinions and thoughts, the ones who wanted, above all else, to survive, regardless of what position they were left in. The ones who'd grown tired of war. The ones willing to cooperate with the hunters._

_Extermination._

_Emory found that word to be a better descriptor of the things he did over the next decades. Impaz, the Sheikah who'd recruited him, passed away a few years after their first meeting, and her son had taken over as his contact with the hunters, always sending him information of where to look next, who to take out of the equation._

_Emory and his group went after the leaders and lords, while the hunters and their allies took care of the covens themselves with their superior numbers. He heard so many last speeches and pleads for mercy that Emory soon could anticipate exactly what his targets were about to say. It became routine...dull..._

_Adrianna was the last target on their list. She was burned and scattered fifty-four years after Gideon, and Emory could finally put an end to that chapter of his life...or, un-life, whatever one preferred to call it._

_"An accord," the hunters had called it. "To ensure peace between our groups."_

_It was more of a formal promise from the hunters to not kill the last twenty or so known vampires—the ones who'd joined Emory in destroying the old guard. Sealed with Adrianna's black blood, and Emory's own induction into the hunters' ranks._

_"Stay in your territories, do not sire any new walkers without permission, and we won't have a reason to come knocking."_

_Beautifully summed up by Impaz' son before he, too, had passed. A lycanthrope ripped his throat out._

_Time loses some of its meaning once your life is no longer threatened by the passing of centuries. Emory continued serving the hunters, relocating from workshop to workshop as he felt complacency—Gideon's greatest fear—sneaking up on him. He never felt truly welcomed among the hunters, for quite obvious reasons._

_He found companionship with some, but it never lasted._

_He was always hungry, as his meals were few and far between...but at least he no longer felt like a monster._

_Until he met Rivea..._

* * *

Sheik pointed at a building that been circled twice on the surprisingly detailed map of the city Malon had given him. It was a little outdated (by ten years or so), but it was more than adequate for this purpose.

"This is where I kept my workshop...or, more of an office, really," he said. "I think it is safe to say it's been compromised." He looked to Ascal for confirmation. The vampire simply shrugged.

"I don't know—I was not aware of its location when I left. Chances are Dehl found it, though. The only base of operations I knew for certain was the whorehouse."

Lor made a choking sound, and turned away. Sheik grimaced. He doubted his friend would ever be able to look at that place again without reliving the things Ascal had done to him. He bared his teeth at the vampire, which infuriatingly only seemed to amuse him.

"Well, consider it enemy territory for now," Sheik forced himself to say, indicating the numerous other circled buildings on the map. "These are the safe houses I established for my network. If any of them are alive, they'll likely be found there. Most of the buildings are abandoned, with a few exceptions. You'll know them by the hunter's mark I've left in certain spots."

He'd sketched the mark itself on a corner of the map, giving them all a look at it. An arrow through a circle. The simplest mark he could make. "There are codes and passwords, for each one, but in this situation you can use the emergency phrase _The river flows crimson, the hunter is blood drunk_."

Ascal snorted. "Ridiculous," he said under his breath.

"Didn't ask for your opinion," Sheik said, feeling his cheeks heat just a little. He'd been younger when he came up with the passphrase. Had considered it appropriate and awesome.

"So how do we do this?" Tira asked, bending over the map. "There are two dozen houses to check."

"We'll have to split up again," Elenwe said. "A group this size will draw plenty of suspicion, even during the day, especially since we have Sheikah with us."

"I'd suggest setting up Kaura and the twins with a base, first of all," Ayla added. "Give them somewhere to hole up, and for us to get patched up if needed." She looked to the scientists. "You've looked at your notes?" she asked.

"We haven't found anything to specifically combat vampires," Erd said, rubbing absently at the bandages that covered half his face. Ard took his hand and made him stop. "But we've found a few recipes for fortifying potions and such—to temporarily enhance your strength and speed. They're only to be used in emergencies, however—they are absolutely devastating and _will_ leave long-term damage if the instructions aren't adhered to."

"This would be an opportune moment for you to chime in with whatever information you can offer," Kaura said, glancing at Ascal.

Tao's absence from her side was strange, in Sheik's opinion. The physician had given him a mild sleeping solution after the meeting at the ranch, ensuring that he was dead to the world as they left.

 _"A child has no place in what we are about to do,"_ she'd said. It only made Sheik feel worse for having abandoned Eren and Nikal to the mercy of a leech like Dehl. He hadn't known, of course, couldn't have known, but it did not stem the guilt. He could only hope they had followed procedure and not done something stupid...

"What, so you can get rid of me now and face her on your own? Not bloody likely," Ascal said, shaking his head. "I'll share what you need to know when it is prudent, or if I am unable to do it myself. Only then."

Sheik wanted to slam his head into the table top. There was movement to his right, and he swallowed nervously when Link marched up to Ascal, using his new height for all it was worth to glare down at the vampire, growling.

"You think I'm scared of you, wolf?" Ascal asked. "I've killed more of your kind than I can count." When Link didn't stop, he sighed and shook his head. "Really, all you need to do is repeat little brother's strategy—shoot her in the head to bring her down. I will handle the rest."

"It'll be my pleasure," Ayla said coldly, her hand finding Sheik's shoulder, clearly not comfortable with someone like Ascal calling him that.

"So, base of operations first," Kafei said a little louder than necessary, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Which safe house would be suitable for that, do you think?" he asked his cousin.

"The one on Thatcher," Sheik said, grateful for the distraction. "It's the biggest, and the building itself is occupied, so it won't look suspicious when we enter and leave. It has a room that can be used for surgery, if necessary."

"I'll be the judge of that," Kaura said. "Tools?"

"Only basic knives and firearms," Sheik said. "No specialised items."

"I'll manage with what I have then, I guess," she said, patting her bag of supplies. "You lot better not get anything more than superficial cuts and bruises, yeah?"

"We'll try, doctor," Elenwe said cheekily.

"You'd better— _you've_ already used up your quota."

"That hurts."

"Good, might keep you focused, that."

"Right, we've wasted enough time here," Kafei announced, rolling up the map and handing it to Sheik. "We'll split into groups of three, and meet up at the safe house on Thatcher. Make sure to take separate paths, and try not to look _too_ suspicious."

"It's the middle of the night," Erd deadpanned. "What _won't_ look suspicious at this time?"

* * *

By some virtue, perhaps having pissed off the Goddesses in a previous life, Sheik found himself together with Ascal once more, trudging through the streets. The snow, thanks to the heat of the city, had turned into slurry, and made it difficult to walk without slipping and cursing under his breath every few minutes. The fact that Ascal didn't seem to have this problem only made it worse, looking perfectly graceful in his movements.

A growl slightly behind them told him that Link wasn't much better off, his movements even more awkward because of his added height, which he was still getting used to.

They chose a path with as many back alleyways and side streets as possible, trying to keep out of the Watch patrols' way. Their presence had definitely been increased, likely due to Dehl's fear of Ascal having made it into the city already, and it seemed like they couldn't turn a single corner without almost barging into a group of watchmen.

So far, they hadn't been spotted. Sheik could only hope that the others managed as well as them.

"Does it hurt?"

Ascal's voice was quiet as they crouched by an iron gate, waiting for the patrol to clear the end of the street before moving on.

The question hadn't been directed at Sheik, and he listened as Link's clothes shuffled with movement.

"No? I would have thought the added height puts a lot of stress on your bones and muscles—or perhaps they've been strengthened to compensate?"

"I thought you knew what was happening to him," Sheik whispered.

"Only in the broadest sense," Ascal said. "We weren't really able to study the creatures when they were numerous—we were too busy killing them." Sheik glared, and Ascal put his hands up. "Sorry, sorry." He added another sorry to Link, who huffed. "I can reveal, however, that he is nowhere near finished. The transformation could take years."

"Will he turn into...the thing that bit him? The wolfos?" Sheik asked, glancing at his lover. Was this...half-Hylian, half-wolf stage only temporary? Would Link eventually go entirely feral? He'd tried not to think about that, but Ascal knew so much more than any of them...

"In time? Most likely," Ascal said. "There were rumours about certain abilities, but I never put much stock in them—never had a chance to confirm any of them, after all. So I would enjoy the time you have left, my lad," he said to Link.

Sheik couldn't listen anymore. He had to stay focused. He tapped Link's shoulder and pointed as the patrol turned the corner ahead. "Move."

* * *

The Thatcher safe house was, unfortunately, empty. There were no signs of anyone having been to the apartment in months—a thick layer of dust covered most surfaces. Still, this was only the first place they checked, and Link was confident that they'd find members of Sheik's network in the other houses—especially Eren and Nikal. Those two were too smart to get caught in Dehl's web.

He watched his pack bustle around the apartment, helping the twins and Kaura set up their equipment. Ard and Erd, assisted by Lor, immediately went to work, preparing the bases of the potions they'd mentioned before. They lacked some ingredients, which Lor said he could fetch from the market when it opened later that morning.

"No one will recognise me," he assured Ard, who had not been a fan of the idea. "Not with this bandage." He'd covered up the tattoo again, worried Dehl or any of her men would see it for what it was. "Let me do my part."

"Ayla will go with you," Kafei decided. "Keeping at a distance, so it doesn't look like you're together."

"Sure thing," the Gerudo said.

"We're wasting time," Sheik muttered, standing at the window and looking down into the street below. Morning was coming, and the city was slowly waking up as the traffic below increased. Street stalls opened up, serving hot breakfast for the men and women going to work. Soon, there would be an unholy clamour outside—just like when Link had first arrived in Castle Town, his sole intention to earn money.

His lover was anxious. Link could smell it rolling off him in waves. He wanted to find and kill this vampire Dehl...but most of all, he wanted to find his agents. he wanted to find the cubs— _kids_. Link shuffled up to him and wrapped his arms around the Sheikah, pulling him close.

Sheik didn't pull away, letting Link hold him. "I'm worried," he whispered.

Link trilled in response, hands moving slowly as he signed.

**They're safe. I'm sure.**

"We should have seen _someone_ by now," Sheik maintained. "I want to check in with Tinn, if possible."

**We will**

The sun had begun creeping up on the horizon by the time they had gotten some rest, and the Thatcher safe house was up and running. The plan was for the group to split up again, which would make it easier to clear the safe houses in a timely manner. Any discovered agents would be taken back to Thatcher for debriefing. Any compromised or empty safe house would be cleared of sensitive materials and scratched off the map.

"We meet back here six at the latest," Kafei declared. "If you're not back by then, we'll assume you've either been captured or killed. We can't risk searching for you until we've made a plan. Is that understood? Do _not_ take chances. If a safe house has been compromised with visible spies or guards, forget it and move on." He regarded his hunters (and Ascal) with something akin to pride marred by worry. "I expect to see you here at six. Good luck."

Link wondered if Kafei purposefully put him together with Sheik and Ascal because he thought Link able to protect Sheik in case Ascal tried something. It was hard to tell, but it was good thinking...in theory at least. Link had seen the strength and speed Ascal possessed, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to keep up with him for long—only temporarily. Still, if it gave Sheik a means of escape, Link thought it was worth it.

He had to protect his mate, after all.

He bit his lip. Damn Beast...

It was easier to move around unseen in the large crowds that flowed through the streets. The cold gave them a good excuse to cover up their faces with scarves and hats—for Sheik and Ascal this was particularly important. For Sheik because of his eyes, for Ascal because his face was on wanted posters at every corner.

"This is rather exciting, isn't it?" Ascal said. "So clandestine."

Link shoved an elbow into his side. The bastard was enjoying this!

"Ow," Ascal yelped. "Rude."

Link followed up with an even ruder finger gesture.

"Charming," the vampire remarked drily. "How far until the next one?" he asked Sheik.

"A few more blocks," Sheik said. "Brick building, above a seamstress' shop. Fifth floor."

Link noted that they were getting awfully closed to the Shades, where the Temple was located. He wanted nothing more than to march up to the madam of the place and show her how he felt about her letting Ascal take Lor away from there, but that would probably put a hole in their plan of staying inconspicuous.

The brick building came into view, and Link spotted a Watch uniform through one of the windows immediately. He tapped Sheik's shoulder and shook his head. The Sheikah cursed under his breath. "Compromised, moving on," he said quietly, making them take a right before they could be spotted by the lookouts.

This path looked familiar, and once they took a left, he realised why. They were now in the Shades. Link recognised the streets from the time he'd met Eren. It certainly smelled familiar, open sewer grates and all. A few minutes later, Link realised Sheik was deliberately heading towards the building that had once housed his office.

"I just need to fetch something," he said. "I'll go alone; in case they're waiting."

They were. A pair of watchmen were standing in the entryway, looking positively bored with their assignment. They kept a careful eye on the people moving by, though, proving their vigilance.

"Well, no going in there," Ascal said. "What now?"

"My journal is in there," Sheik said. "It contains information on every safe house in the city, as well as the hunters. I need to make sure no one's found it."

Ascal pulled his hat further down, shielding his eyes from the sun. Link had only heard of vampires through old folk tales and childhood stories. The common thread, however, was that sunlight killed them instantly. Ascal only seemed mildly annoyed by it. That was disappointing—it would have been satisfying to simply tear his hat off and watch him burn...

"I suppose we could arrange a little distraction," Ascal said after a long moment of silence. "Running is always suspicious, isn't it? Wolfy and I can lead them on a little chase." He glanced at Link. "Provided you can keep up?"

Link grinned, displaying every sharpened tooth in his mouth. Hell yes I can, he said.

"Good," the vampire said with satisfaction. "Whenever you're ready, little brother."

"Don't call me that," Sheik said. "Just get going."

* * *

It was almost comical how easily the watchmen gave chase once Link and Ascal tore past them like hell was on their heels. They'd probably received instructions that they were to remain at their post until someone bearing Ascal's description showed up, but the instinct to catch runners were ingrained by their training—they _had_ to run after them.

Sheik took the opportunity to cross the small courtyard and slipping inside the dilapidated building. The past months had not been kind to it. Rain and frost had done quite a bit of damage to the delicate wooden stairs and furniture—but that wasn't what drew Sheik's attention. On the stairs, on the floor below his office, there was blood. Quite a bit of it. Whoever it belonged to had fallen down, ending up on the landing.

Swallowing heavily, Sheik hoped it didn't belong to someone he knew. His office had been ransacked, as he'd suspected, and the hidden compartment in his desk had been broken open, the key removed. That compartment had been seamlessly hidden by the carpenter—and only two other people than him knew about it.

He went downstairs again, into the basement. Outside, he heard the watchmen's whistles as they called for backup. He was running out of time. He found the old filing cabinets, and was not surprised to see that the one he'd chosen was opened. The journal was gone. That was...either a very good thing, or a very bad thing. A bad thing because it could mean his journal was in the vampire's hands. Ciphered, of course, so she probably could not read it, but it also contained maps that were self-explanatory. On the other hand, it could mean Eren and Nikal retrieved it before they went into hiding, which meant his secrets were all safe.

He pulled at his braided hair. Too many possibilities, and he was still no closer to figuring out where the hell his assistants were!

Another whistle, and he turned to leave. It was dangerous to stick around. Something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. A small scrap of paper, lodged under one of the overturned cabinets. It looked worn, but he recognised his own writing immediately. It was part of a report he'd written but never sent because he disliked the wording. He'd still ciphered it, and kept it in his journal. Unremarkable, perhaps, but...he could see faint circles around certain letters.

_**C...S...T...R...** _

It took him a moment to figure out what it meant. Embarrassingly long, really. The circles were uneven and rough, like the writer had been in a hurry.

He smiled. He knew where to go now.

Fifteen minutes later, he met up with Link and Ascal at the appointed spot several blocks away. Link was panting and sweating, and even Ascal looked a bit tired. The sun was affecting him more than he let on, then. Sheik filed that information for later use.

"Well?" Ascal asked. "Find anything useful?"

"The journal was gone," Sheik said. "But I know where they've gone." He gave Link the piece of paper, watched as the Hylian figured out the clue.

"And where is that?" Ascal asked.

"A place Link and I are very familiar with it."

Link must have understood, because his nose immediately wrinkled at the memory.

* * *

"Anything?"

Sheik looked hopeful as Link sniffed at the air, only grimacing more and more for each inhale. Eventually, Link shook his head.

**Can't smell anything—too much waste**

He wasn't wrong, and Sheik honestly hadn't expected Link to be able to pick up their scents, but it had been worth a shot.

"What's he saying?" Ascal asked, annoyed that he needed a translation.

"He only smells shit," Sheik replied eloquently.

Ascal nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense, since we're standing in a fucking _sewer_!"

Technically, they were standing _above_ a sewer, but since most of the cistern had been blown wide open by Link and Sheik's little escapade a few months ago, it was a mostly meaningless distinction. The area around the giant hole in the ground had been declared an unsafe area, and the builders were still working on shoring up the unstable passages and supporting the weight of the streets and buildings above. The cistern itself, the nexus for all the passages of the sewer system, had been mostly cleared—the skulker corpses long gone—either through decomposition or clean-up—save for the biggest pieces of debris that had yet to be broken down and hauled to a carry.

"Can you smell _anything_ than that?" Sheik asked as they circled the hole, heading for the hastily erected scaffolding and ladders leading into the pit.

 **Nothing,** Link signed. **Not even you**.

Not for the first time, Sheik thanked the Goddesses for _not_ giving him a hyper-sensitive sense of smell like Link's. Even Ascal's seemed to be more of a bother than an asset at the moment.

"Well, we'll just have to use our eyes, then," Sheik said, beginning to climb down, closely followed by Ascal and Link.

"May I reiterate my previous complaint?" Ascal asked. "That this is a stupid idea? We have no idea how old that note is—for all we know, they're already dead, or have moved on, or—"

"If they've moved on, they'll have left another clue to their new location," Sheik said firmly. "And if they're dead...we'll find the...the bodies." He stumbled over the word _bodies_. The last thing he wanted to imagine was finding Eren and Nikal in some passage or other, dead from exposure, or hunger, or...

"I still think we should have cleared the remaining safe houses," the vampire grumbled, grimacing when he reached the bottom of the ladder...and sank to his ankles in filthy mud. "And I will definitely burn my clothes when this is over."

Ignoring the stench, Sheik climbed onto one of the stone channels, the sort he'd knocked Link into when they'd hunted the giant rats, trying to gain an overview of the cistern itself. Down here, the debris seemed much bigger, the chunks of stone nearly waist-high in some cases. Sixteen passages—sixteen possibilities. Two had collapsed and still hadn't been cleared, while the rest were being shored up. They had a long search ahead of them.

"Still nothing?" he asked them both.

**Nothing**

"My nose is just about clogged up with this miasma," Ascal said miserably, sighing. "Can we just get started?"

"My thoughts exactly!"

His body acting on instinct, Sheik dove behind a destroyed piece of an archway, pistol out and aiming in the direction the voice had come from. Behind him, he heard Link and Ascal do the same, the sound of the Zukov's internal mechanics springing to life.

 _Where did they come from?_ he wondered, spotting the dozen or so shapes that had appeared around the rim of the cistern, all armed with rifles and pistols, aimed directly at them. The cover was mostly useless.

The voice had come from the middle figure, a slim woman dressed in a long, flowing black coat, her face obscured by a deep hood. There was no mistaking who she was, however.

"Father, _so good_ to see you again," Dehl shouted down at them, her attention focused solely on Ascal.

 _Father?!_ He looked to the vampire, but his attention was solely on Dehl...his daughter? Surely not?

"Wish I could say the feeling is mutual, my dear," Ascal said calmly, though his jaw had tightened considerably. He'd drawn his _kukri_ , but was making no other movements. "You've been quite busy stabbing me in the back. Can't say I'm too happy about that. In fact, I'm quite _vexed_."

"Vexed enough to go running to the hunters and beg them for help?" she asked, laughing. "Pity they fell for such an obvious ruse. It tarnishes the stories you told me about them a little." She focused on Sheik as drew her hood back a little, exposing cold amber eyes and a mouth stretched into a wide, fanged grin. "Looking for your little birds, hunter? I'm afraid you're too late. Don't worry, though, I gave them a nice send-off in my dungeons. The boy screamed so delightfully loud..."

_She's trying to provoke me, keep calm, she doesn't have them, she never had them..._

But if she'd laid the trap, had his journal...how had she known?

"Dehl," Ascal called, drawing the attention back to himself. "Your business is with me, not him. Give up now, and I might be persuaded to go easy on you, perhaps even forgive you."

"Oh, father, we both know the time for that is long past," Dehl said with a sad shake of her head, as if this wasn't exactly what she wanted. "This filthy hole will be your grave, old man. It's time for someone younger to take your place."

Ascal had not joked when he'd described her as arrogant. Was that normal for younger vampires?

"It will be a grave, indeed," Ascal said with a nod. "Whose, however, is not yet certain. Why don't we—"

Dehl had no intention of being fair. A single motion, and her men opened fire. Sheik dove behind his cover, firing a badly aimed shot in return. Bits of rock exploded around him as the bullets struck his hiding place—behind him, he heard the mechanical clacks of the Zukov firing unevenly as Link, too, had to take cover.

A bullet nearly struck Sheik's foot, and he curled it inwardly. The men were circling the pit, slowly coming around their cover. They couldn't stay out here; it was a death trap! He turned to the others to inform them as such, but Ascal was already on the move. He only had a single pistol with him, but he effortlessly ducked once, twice, then aimed and fired. One of Dehl's men screamed dropped his rifle and fell into the pit, disappearing into a canal with a splash.

At the same moment, Sheik felt a strong arm pulling him up and shoving him towards one of the passages—Link making a sound that could only be described as a bark and snarl, Zukov clicking as he moved backwards with Sheik. A quarrel struck another enemy, who clutched his shoulder and disappeared from view. Sheik drew another pistol, determined not to be any worse...but he aimed at Dehl. He could swear her grin widened when he pulled the trigger, and her movement (faster than he'd expected) was obscured by the smoke—he'd missed.

Then he was shoved into the tunnel, Link pushing him to move.

"Go, go, go!" Ascal shouted behind them. "Don't stop moving!"

All around them, Sheik heard splashing and shouting. There were men in the tunnels as well! He ducked just as someone fired at them from a side passage. He tripped on something and nearly fell face-first into the filthy water, but Link steadied him and responded with a bolt. This one struck the enemy in the middle of the throat, and he gurgled, gripping at the projectile with bloody hands.

They ran and ran. Sheik had no idea where they were, only that Dehl had apparently seen fit to fill the entire sewer system with her underlings, having set up ambush positions every which way. Ascal's shoulder was bleeding, having been struck at some point. Apart from that, they were mostly unharmed save for smaller cuts from debris. It was a good thing they were all such lousy shots!

 _A ladder, a ladder,_ Sheik thought. _Have to find a ladder, get up into the streets, take cover!_

His eyes roamed the walls, hoping to spot a manhole or some other sort of opening onto street level, but all the possible passages were blocked by enemies, and they had no way to respond—not without letting the ones chasing them catch up.

_A way out—we have to get out!_

He was too busy looking up. They passed another side passage, and another shot rang out. Sheik felt his side and gut grow hot, then cold and wet. He gasped, all strength failing him as his legs buckled, and he tumbled, landing on the hard stone floor, fingers grabbing uselessly at the hole in his stomach. Link, busy dealing with the enemies behind them, barely noticed in time and avoided tripping over him.

Sheik felt his hands grabbing at him, trying to get him up, but he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stem the bleeding. He felt numb...and the fear. The same he'd felt in Kaerwall, after an assassin had stabbed him twice and left him for dead. He tried to speak, tried to something, but all he could do was stare up at Link's face as the panic grew in the Hylian's eyes.

Even in the dark, Sheik could see the change. Link's eyes shrank, until the irises became mere pinpricks. His teeth were bared, the gums bleeding. A loud snap, and Link _howled_ , his jawbone nearly breaking in half and elongating. His entire _face_ was growing longer, muzzle-like, the teeth distributing themselves along the changing jaw, looking more natural in this configuration.

Sheik's vision was darkening rapidly, but he still felt the claws gripping at him, accidentally tearing his flesh. Link—or the monster he was transforming into—howled again, the sound echoing through the passage, and bringing silence as the men chasing them momentarily stopped in the face of whatever was down there with them. Link's eyes glowed silver, his hair lengthening almost into a mane. His clothes began to tear, his body changing—bones cracking and his arms grew longer, chest more robust.

_Wolf..._

* * *

Ascal wanted to scream. What the _fuck_ had he done to deserve such rotten luck? First the idiot Sheikah walks them into a trap that, admittedly, Ascal should have seen coming, then he gets himself shot, and now the damn wolf decided to show its true nature and complete its transformation. The only way things could have gone worse would be if whatever exploded the cistern in the first place decided to do an encore.

He grabbed one of Sheik's dropped pistols and shot the one who'd gotten Sheik right in the head. He'd been alone, luckily. He then drew back, giving Link space as the wolf within took control and changed his body to suit its purposes. He'd never seen a transformation at such a close distance before, and it was...fascinating.

By now, his leg bones had elongated and changed so his posture was more suitable for a digitigrade like a proper wolf. Massive claws had sprouted from his feet and hands, his face transformed into a muzzle, the teeth redistributed to rip and tear and crush. Where his clothing had failed to keep itself together, Ascal could see golden fur covering what before had been naked skin.

All the while, Link howled with pain and anger and _hate_ so strong Ascal was taken aback. The last traces of his Hylian face disappeared in fur and bones, and then a wolfos, still wearing tattered clothes and a sword on its back was occupying the place a relatively normal boy had moments before. It growled and snarled—and _pounced_. The first pursuer came into view just in time for Link to land its massive pawns on his chest, dragging him down to the ground, jaws clamped around his neck. The man's fearful scream was immediately silenced as his throat was torn out, blood spraying on the walls.

Ascal didn't watch what happened next. He ran to Sheik's side, checked that he was still breathing, and picked him up, tearing down the closest empty tunnel, running as fast as he could, not stopping until the sounds of screaming and roaring were but a distant echo. There were no ladders or ways topside, but that didn't matter, Sheik wouldn't survive a climb.

He found another a small side chamber, once used as a storage area when the sewers were built, and pulled the considerably heavy iron gate down behind them, bending the lock until only someone of his comparable strength could hope to open it again. Sheik's still breathing body was deposited in the corner of the bare room,

Too old, he thought. I'm too old for this.

His shoulder ached, the bullet still lodged firmly in there. With a frustrated sound, he dug his fingers into the wound, grinding his teeth until he found it and ripped it out. Outsmarted by his own _fucking_ daughter! The indignity of it all!

He dropped the slightly deformed bullet on the floor and crouched at Sheik's side, noting the amount of blood he'd lost already. He slapped the Sheikah's cheeks harshly, half-whispering in case some of Dehl's men had escaped the carnage Link was causing, and still chasing them.

"Hey, hey," he whispered. "Wake up."

Sheik's eyes fluttered open, but his gaze was distant and weak, his lips moving. "Link...where's Link...?"

"He's fine," Ascal said none-too-gently. "Creating a distraction. Let's have a look..."

He didn't bother with the buttons, ripping Sheik's coat, and then shirt, open with swift, harsh movements. His lower torso was drenched in blood, dark blood. Ascal confirmed his suspicion when he examined the matching entry and exit wounds in his side and stomach, and the slightly acrid smell to the almost black blood seeping from the front. He grimaced.

The kid was a goner.

"Bad news," he told Sheik, who was already halfway gone due to blood loss, confusion and worry barely registering in his addled mind. "You've been shot in the gut. Seems to have taken an artery with it, too. You're bleeding out."

"Oh," Sheik muttered, probably not even understanding what Ascal was saying.

"No fixing that," Ascal said. "Not even your physician friend can heal this. You're as good as dead already."

"Don't...don't want to die," Sheik whimpered pitifully, all traces of the serious young man from before gone. He clutched at Ascal's front. "Can't...can't die now...too much to do...don't want to!"

Ascal pushed Sheik's hand off him and stood up, heading for the gate. Wasn't his fault the boy had gotten himself shot. Wasn't his problem. They'd all known the risks, going into this. Frankly, it was Sheik's fault for insisting they climb into this godsforsaken pit in the first place! If anything, Ascal should be glad! That was one of his targets taken care, if slightly (very) delayed. Link had gone feral and was either getting killed by Dehl's men, or the watch, or the hunters—the second target took care of itself!

His mission was practically over, once he'd take custody of the princess at the ranch, and recovered Jerewin. All that stood between him and utter victory was Dehl, and this was a definite setback for her, playing her hand so early. No, this was very much salvageable. He reached for the lock, intending to twist it back so the gate could once again be opened, when Sheik whimpered once more.

What was it with children and the way their cries seemed to go through his very marrow? Ascal pulled again, and heard a rattle as Sheik drew one of his last breaths. Not long now. Another minute at most. Ascal smelled the life force ebbing out of him.

This was a victory; this was a triumph!

So why wasn't he happy?

The answer was annoyingly obvious, yet incredibly nebulous. Really, it was the same damn weakness, the one that always came back to haunt him. And he could never fight it.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, stalking back to the boy, whose eyes were glazed over and staring at nothing. "Hey, stay with me," he growled. "Hey!" He slapped Sheik again, and that brought some form of attention back to him. "Do you want to die? Hm? Answer me! Do. You. Want. To. Die?"

"...n...no..." Sheik gasped.

"Damn my thrice-cursed heart," Ascal said, drawing his _kukri_ and slicing his wrist open. The blood ran freely, dripping onto Sheik's chest. "Open your mouth— _open it_!" Letting his own nearly black blood pour into the boy's mouth, Ascal forced him to swallow by pinching his nose shut. "Drink. Drink, damn you!"

When Sheik finally latched onto his bleeding wrist and began to suckle at the wound like a child to a teat, Ascal fought down the satisfied feeling that welled up in his chest, the instinct to nurture. Instead, he grabbed hold of his frustration and anger and focused on them, waiting until he felt the point of no return approaching.

"You'd better appreciate this, little brother," he muttered, his strength slowly draining into Sheik. "I'll finish you off myself if you don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like you didn't see this coming!


	68. The Talk

As much as he'd hated the idea of going anywhere near certain places again, Lor found himself enjoying the hustle and bustle of the city around him. There was a sense of life here, a sort of energy you just didn't get anywhere else. He'd liked the Studio, but that was more for the feeling of safety it brought than anything else. He'd felt protected there, but he would have gone insane if it'd been his permanent home. Castle Town...the place had awful memories and sensations tied to it, but it was still his home, and he'd missed it dearly.

Moreover, he'd missed the way he could disappear into a crowd of people. He didn't feel as exposed, as vulnerable. Moreover, this time around, thanks to his covered-up cheek, people didn't immediately recognise him for the whore he'd been, and subsequently didn't offer any thinly veiled insults or pitiful looks. He was one of them—just another face amongst many. He liked that very much.

He easily sidestepped a drunken man (at this time of day? Shameful...) who was staggering his way through the crowds, regardless of the traffic direction, and easily jumped from one lane to another. This was his element. This was where he belonged. In the corner of his vision, he caught movement, and then spotted the familiar hat, proving that Ayla was easily keeping up with him, but at a distance so as to not draw suspicion.

He couldn't imagine that Ayla enjoyed playing babysitter for him while he went from stall to stall in one of the marketplaces, trying to find the various herbs and reagents Ard and Erd needed for the concoctions they were brewing. The Gerudo certainly didn't seem to enjoy the crowds as much as Lor did, judging from the way her jaws clenched and clearly had to stop herself from yelling at the people who accidentally got in her way. When he caught her eyes, however, she offered a small smile, an assurance that she was watching his back. He'd try to get this over with as soon as possible, for her sake.

Jumping another lane and stopping in front of a seemingly popular herbalist, Lor quickly found himself wedged between a pair of men arguing about the price for some dangerous-looking flower or other, and he knew that Ard would _definitely_ have hated this. The people, the noise, the smell, the lack of space—all of it. A result of their upbringing, Erd had mentioned at one point, but the other twin didn't seem nearly as...closed-off as Ard did.

Not that it mattered—Lor was only happy Ard opened up to _him_ , of all people. It took quite a bit of coaxing, but when they found themselves with a moment alone, Ard turned into a completely different person. Almost. Nearly. A bit. At least he wasn't as afraid of displays of affection anymore, and Lor only vowed to continue his efforts when Ard, out of the blue, had kissed his tattooed cheek just before they'd left Lon Lon Ranch.

They'd have plenty of time to explore that further once this nasty business was over and done with. He managed to convey what he needed to the herbalist, who quickly and professionally cut up the requested roots, divided them into the appropriate doses in small paper squares, and handed them to him. "Half price," she'd said when he tried to hand over the right amount of coins.

Lor's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because your bodyguard over there is giving me the death-eye," she said with a chuckle, nodding her head towards Ayla, who'd stopped in front of another stall, generally being in the way as she observed the transaction between them. "I'd rather not get on her bad side. Besides, you're a cute one, so why not?"

"Thank you so much," Lor said, bowing his head a little with a blush. Genuine compliments had been a rarity in his life (less so lately, thankfully), and he'd never quite figured out how to handle them. The herbalist seemed to find this amusing, chuckling as she waved him off, beginning to serve another customer as soon as he was out of sight.

"What did she say?" Ayla murmured, stopping behind him and turning her back, so it didn't look like they were talking. The fact that she had to yell to be heard over the din sort of defeated the general purpose of that, but from a distance it looked somewhat...well, still suspicious as hell, really.

"You're not as inconspicuous as you think you are," Lor replied, making a show of examining a necklace in the stall in front of him. "She saw that you're here to watch my back immediately—which means others will, too."

"If I have to smile and apologise to one more nincompoop who steps on my feet, I'm going to cleave them in half," Ayla said, her hand hovering at her side where her scimitar's handle was concealed beneath her coat. "We done soon?"

"Just one more thing, and we can head back," he assured her.

"All right, what do we need?"

"Nitro-glycerine."

He heard her choke slightly at that. "Aren't those explosives?"

"In large amounts, sure," Lor said. "But the twins don't need much of it, and I don't think they're planning on blowing us all up, so..."

"Okay, where do we get it? Tool shop?"

"Apothecary or chemist, I think."

"It's used as _medicine_?" the Gerudo exclaimed, sounding outraged.

"I think so?" Lor said. "I wasn't given a presentation on this, you know, just what it was and where I could find it. Come on, let's get this over with before someone steps on your foot again and gets beheaded." He didn't look at her as he stalked off, his intended dignified walk marred by the slight limp of his stiff leg.

It was a reminder that, contrary to what he'd been promised, Ascal was still alive. Worse, they were _working with him_. He scowled at the thought. Every time he looked at the man's face, he was reminded of his treatment at the hands of his men. The beatings, the rapes, the humiliation. He wanted nothing more than to grab a blunt object and smash the bastard's teeth to pieces...but they'd just grow back, wouldn't they, and he'd just aim that smug grin in his direction.

At least Ascal hadn't tried to talk to him. Lor wasn't sure he could handle that. Even worse if he tried to be friendly, as if the events that transpired between them was something that could be easily forgotten. No, Lor wouldn't forget, and he certainly wouldn't forgive. He was still angry with Sheik and Link for agreeing to working with the vampire, too, but that was more of a simmering resentment than the blazing hate he felt for Ascal. He'd thought they were his friends, but they'd simply traipsed off into the streets with Ascal in tow, like friends. Uncomfortable friends, sure, judging by the tension in Link and Sheik's shoulders, but still...

More than once he wished he could just grab the twins and disappear with them somewhere, where he wouldn't have to deal with hunters and vampires and politics...but the guilt always came just after. He couldn't just abandon his friends to this, or the princess...or any of them, really. He'd just have to settle for giving Sheik and Link a good walloping when this was all over—possibly chain them together to a bed for a week so they could work out some frustrations, too. Maybe Lor could watch...

He shook his head and focused on the matter at hand. Inside the apothecary's shop, he put on his best smile and asked the man behind the counter for the nitro-glycerine he needed. Truthfully, he was nervous about asking for something that could be used as a high-grade explosive like it was nothing, but the chemist simply nodded and fetched a small vial of the stuff.

"Fetching for someone with a bad heart?" the chemist asked as he filled out the transaction in a large book on the desk.

"Er, yes," Lor said. "My...my mother." He stumbled a bit over the word.

"Has she taken this before?" he continued to ask.

"She has, sir," Lor confirmed, wondering if he would have been made errands like this if his mother was still alive, and was with him. He abandoned that train of thought quickly. No good ever came of that.

"Then she knows her dosage," the chemist said with a nod, taking Lor's money and handing him the vial. "I hope she feels better, son."

"Thank you, sir," Lor said, nodding.

"We done?" Ayla asked as he passed her in the doorway, where she was lounging comfortably with a lit pipe in her mouth. Where had she gotten that?

"Let's head back," Lor replied and started heading back towards Thatcher street, and their hideout. The Gerudo fell into step about five paces behind him. There wasn't much of a conversation to be had this way, but it still felt nice to have someone at his back...even if they failed somewhat at being covert.

It was mere luck that brought them past the watchmen assembling outside their watch station, with an officer inspecting them briefly. "Right," he announced. "Thatcher street, above Miss Tania's shop. Suspicious individuals have been sighted, Sheikah and Gerudo among them. Your orders are to capture them if possible, eliminate them if not. These are enemies of the Crown, ladies and gentlemen. Take no chances."

The dozen-and-a-half guardsmen saluted and immediately split into groups. Lor was pulled back into the cover of a disused stall, Ayla's mouth a thin, firm line.

"What do we do?" Lor asked, feeling panic rising in his chest as the watchmen began heading in the direction of their Thatcher street hideout. Ard and Erd was there, with Kaura. The others were out searching Sheik's safe houses—they couldn't fight! "We have to do something!"

"It's not like the two of us can take on an entire watch patrol and survive, kid," Ayla said, her eyes never leaving them. "But...I suppose fighting isn't always the correct answer." She sighed. "Mal's going to _kill_ me," she moaned, throwing the pipe at her feet and stamping it out.

"What?"

"No time to explain," Ayla said, stepping out from the stall and into the crowd, drawing a pistol. "When all hell breaks loose, you run back to the safe house, yeah? Get them the hell out of there and somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"Improvise, just like me!"

She whistled loudly, and fired the gun into the air. The effect was immediate—the civilians around them began screaming and running every which way, knocking into each other and the stalls, causing merchandise to drop, and the horses drawing the carts to panic. Lor ducked further into the stall, trying not to get trampled by the swirling panic in the street, with Ayla in the centre.

It certainly drew the attention of the watchmen, who wheeled around to spot one of their targets standing in the middle of the road, smoking gun in her hand and a cheeky grin on her face, waving at them. "Care for a dance?" she asked.

The officer's face turned purple, and he barked an indecipherable order at his men, who immediately swarmed towards the Gerudo, who immediately high-tailed it out of there, back in the direction they'd come, into the marketplace.

Good thinking, Lor thought. It'll be easier to lose them in there.

Waiting until they'd all thundered past, Lor peeked around the corner, finding the street mostly empty. Ensuring his bag of supplies was still intact, he legged it towards Thatcher, cursing the cold for making his injured leg seize up every third step or so. All the while, he desperately tried to figure out where to take the twins and the doctor. They didn't know their way around this place, and if _this_ safe house was compromised, chances were that the others were as well, which meant he couldn't take the chance on taking them there.

But where else could he take them? Somewhere people wouldn't think to search, either because the thought didn't occur, because it was unpleasant, or because it was too obvious.

The answer struck him the moment he spotted the safe house, and a humourless smile stretched his lips unpleasantly. Well, it was certainly too obvious, _and_ unpleasant.

And if anyone owed him a favour at this point, it was _her_.

* * *

Ayla panted, leaning against an empty horse-cart behind an old fishery, her need for oxygen outweighing the complaints of her nose. That's it, she thought. I really need to work my cardiovascular fitness—this is _embarrassing_.

No more than twenty minutes of running, and she was dead on her feet. At least the watchmen didn't seem to be in any better condition, and she'd managed to lose most of them in the marketplace, the rest in the winding, narrow streets of the Shades, as Sheik's map had called it.

Twenty minutes should have been enough for them to pack up and leave, right? Lor could be a fast little bugger when he needed to be, even with his leg, and the twins had always been efficient when they were on the move. Kaura...well, she seemed to have everything she ever needed in that bag of hers, so...

The only loss was most of their weapons and backup equipment, but she had a faint hope that the four of them would think to grab a couple of those, too. She had no idea where Lor would take him, but was confident he'd know or find somewhere good, somewhere safe. The safe houses were all compromised, it could be assumed, and no way in hell would she risk going to any of them now. Not alone.

She'd have to look for the other hunters now, team up with them. Find Sheik and Link, ask them where they thought Lor would consider safe in this damnable city. She grinned. Easy as pie, that. Like finding a needle in a haystack—while it was on _fire_.

She enjoyed hyperbole.

Their luck had been mostly rotten since they'd set foot in Castle Town—but at least things couldn't get worse now, right?

There was the click of a gun being cocked behind her. "Your money or your life!"

Ayla turned to the man with an incredulous expression. "Seriously?" she asked.

A million alleys and backyards, and she _had_ to walk into this one. Elenwe could take her self-made luck and shove it so far up her—

"Your money—"the man began again.

"—or my life, yes, I heard you," she said, scowling, shifting her hip so her gun belt came into view, showing she was far better armed than him. "Not like _that_ phrase has changed much. I have a question for you, sonny: Do I _look_ like a woman you want to be robbing?"

The robber paled considerably at the sight of her guns, as well as the scimitar on her other hip. He gulped, and then, to credit of his bravery (his intelligence, not so much), kept his own gun trained on her. "This doesn't have to be hard," he said. "Just give me what you've got, and I'll let you live."

" _Let_ me live?" she said, unable to stifle a laugh. "Oh, young fella-me-lad, I can assure you that no matter what happens next, I _will_ be leaving this alley alive. The question is, will _you_?"

"Don't make jokes, desert bitch!" he growled, his hand shaking, his face white as a sheet now. He was a man who'd bitten off more than he could chew, and knew it, but also couldn't find it in him to abandon his present course. Sad, really. Sadder, when the tremors of his hand caused his index finger to give a jerk, pulling the trigger.

Good thing his aim was atrocious, and didn't strike anything vital. Pity, though, because the non-vital bit was Ayla's left thigh, and she certainly _felt_ the bullet strike her femur, white-hot fire spreading along the entire leg as it gave out beneath her. Howling, she fell into the slushy mud, clutching her bleeding leg.

The man looked horrified at what he'd done, rushing to her side. "Oh, oh, Goddesses, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't—"

Reflexes. The instinct to fight back. Anger. Many things could be blamed, but in the end it was her own petty need for revenge that drove Ayla to draw a dagger and plunge it into his neck, again and again, until his throat was a bloody mess and his lifeless eyes stared into hers, a last gurgle escaping before he died. She spat in the snow, dropping the knife and clutching at her leg.

"Stupid fuck," she said between clenched teeth. She'd _felt_ the bullet strike bone—if it hadn't broken, it had sure as hell fractured. The entire thing had gone numb, and she wasn't stupid enough to try standing on it. That'd only make things worse. "We both could have walked away from this, bastard!"

The gunshot had echoed considerably among the buildings. Someone would signal a watch patrol, if one wasn't already on its way (maybe with some of the ones she'd already lost). She was a goner. She cursed under her breath once more, drawing a pistol. This wasn't the dignified end she'd wanted, the one where she died fighting some humongous, awesome beast. No, instead, she'd die at her own hands behind a fucking _fishery_ , all because of some idiot mugger who'd thought her an easy target.

Gods knew what the watchmen would do to her, or what'd happen if she was brought to the vampire, but she didn't have high hopes for her chances either way. Better to end it now, before it becomes an issue. She placed the barrel against her temple, taking a few deep breaths, just trying to enjoy the few seconds she had left...which was difficult because, as stated before, she was behind a fishery, and the air she breathed smelled like _death_.

Then, the door to the fishery opened, and a small girl walked out, her eyes watching Ayla warily. Behind her, a boy's head appeared in the doorway, covered in bruises. He appeared to be talking to someone further inside.

"Are you all right?" the girl asked, stepping a little closer. She was wearing filthy, threadbare clothes, and her hair was a tangled mess. There was a hardness to her face, revealing she'd faced more than a few demons. Any other time, Ayla would have assumed she was a street urchin who'd simply gotten caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, the description matched her (and the boy) perfectly. So, she gave the girl a hopeless grin.

"Oh, I'm fantastic," she drawled. "Grand, even. Not every day I get to enjoy the pleasure of getting shot in the leg."

The girl didn't seem fazed by this at all, shaking her head. "Need some help?" she asked. "The guards will be here soon, and I don't think they'll take kindly to finding you—specially not with a dead guy next to you."

"My thoughts exactly," Ayla said. "And I _would_ appreciate the help, yes, but I think I'm a little too heavy for you—"

"Not a problem," the girl said, turning to the boy. "Tell Jer to get out here."

Another person appeared, this one far older than the boy and the girl. Somewhere in his twenties, Ayla would guess, but she'd never been good at guessing the ages of Hylians. They seemed to stay forever young until just before they died, at which point time seemed to catch up to them and wreak havoc on faces and bodies. This one moved towards her hesitantly, seemingly unsure of what to do. Almost daintily. Almost like a noble, really...

"Should I, er..." the young man said, and Ayla rolled her eyes at him.

"Just grab my hand and pull me up, will you?" she demanded, holding hers out for him to grab. He did so, and she made sure to put her weight on the uninjured leg—but even that made her gasp with pain. The young man took her inside the fishery, and the door closed and bolted the door behind them. The inside of the fishery smelled even worse than the outside, but at least it was warmer in here, and somewhat safe from prying eyes.

"The girl," Ayla began, noticing that she hadn't followed them inside.

"She's getting rid of the body, and the blood," the boy said, directing them up the stairs to what appeared to be the foreman's office. He was oddly calm about what had transpired...but then again, anyone who'd been through what put all those bruises and healing cuts on him would surely be a little...numbing. "Can't have the Watch barging in on our hiding spot. In there, Jer," he said, pointing to the office. "Get my bag—should be some bandages in there."

The young man—Jer—put Ayla down on the edge of the foreman's desk, and the went to a different room. Ayla tried to make herself comfortable on the desk, noting that a veritable nest of blankets and pillows had been arranged in one of the corners of the room. The boy was staring at her.

"You're a hunter, aren't you?" he asked.

"What gave me away?" she asked in return.

"Only the boss carries as many weapons as you," he said, walking over to examine her wound with gentle fingers. The fingers of his right hand were bound tightly. She let him poke and prod at the wound, doubtful he had anything that could help in terms of removing the bullet, if they could bind her leg temporarily and get her to Kaura...eugh, but she had no idea where to find Kaura, did she? "What's your name?" he asked.

"Ayla," she replied.

"Nice to meet you, Ayla. I'm—"

"Eren, right?"

His eyes widened slightly at that.

"Sheik told me about you," she explained. "And Nikal—that was her, yeah?"

"Yeah..." he said slowly, still gaping at her. "Why...how...?"

"It's a very long story, kid," she said with a sigh. "But the gist is, your boss is back, and we're here to help him hunt that vampire that's been plaguing your city for the past few months."

Eren looked incredibly excited at the prospect of Sheik having returned, almost vibrating with a smile big enough to make _her_ jaws hurt. It almost made her wonder just what sort of relationship Sheik had with his little spies—it certainly wasn't a neutral employer-employee sort of thing. "The boss is here?" he asked. "Right now?"

She nodded. "Yup—in fact, he's out looking for you two right now. We've been looking at all the safe houses—"

"They've found them all," he said, scowling. "The leech found the boss' journal, and the map. She's been chasing us all over the place—we've been hiding here for a week."

Impressed they'd managed to evade capture for so long, Ayla pressed on. "And the rest of the network?"

"We're all that's left," Eren said. "Tinn, and all the rest...they're dead."

"I see...well, he will be glad to see you two made it, at least, along with...?" she trailed off, gesturing in the direction of the young man.

"He's...a friend," Eren said, hesitating. Ayla wondered why. Unless...nah, that was too stupid to be true.

"All right," she replied, deciding not to make him more uncomfortable. He and his partner were, after all, saving her life. Her leg was still numb, which was a bit of a blessing since she knew just how badly it was going to hurt later. There was a lot of bleeding, too...

"Here," Jer said, returning with a pack and taking out several rolls of bandage. "We are almost out," he informed Eren.

"We'll have to raid another apothecary, then," Eren said, taking the proffered bandages and unrolling them. "Gotta find you a doctor, too, to get that bullet out," he added to Ayla.

"We have a doctor with us, but she's—ah!—relocating right now," Ayla said. "We didn't realise all the safe houses were compromised—I was distracting some watchmen when I came here."

"We saw," Eren said. "They ran right past you."

"Small blessings, I suppose." She noticed Jer hovering uncertainly in the doorway, and nodded to him. Time to see if she was just being paranoid. "Jer, right? I'm Ayla. Thanks for the lift back there."

"M-My pleasure," he stuttered.

"Jer...that short for something?" she asked innocently. Eren stiffened as he worked on her leg.

"Erm, yes."

"Care to tell me? Sorry, but being a hunter and all—it's only polite, you know?"

"Of course," he said, swallowing. "It's short for Jerewin."

Ayla wasn't sure if it was good luck or bad luck, but Elenwe could still take it and shove it where the sun didn't shine.

Sighing, she fixed him with a piercing gaze and said, "Jerewin Camdessus?" At his silent, terrified nod, she sighed again and drew the pistol she'd intended to end her own life with, and pointed it at him.

"Then you're my target," she said, wishing she'd just given the mugger her fucking money.

* * *

Ascal couldn't hear screaming or shooting anymore. The echoed had long since died away, leaving only the sound of flowing and dripping water, the scratching and squeaking of the critters that made these tunnels their home...and the heavy breathing of the boy next to him. He glanced down at the Sheikah, fighting down the sympathetic sting in his chest.

He'd seen it so many times, but turnings were never easy to observe, especially when it was your own kin that was suffering. Kin...a funny word with so many meanings, and now Ascal had to apply it to the boy he'd been hunting and trying to kill for months. The one who'd shot _him_ in the head at point-blank range. Ascal could _swear_ he heard some fragment of that bullet rattling around in his skull sometimes. Irony had such a terrible sense of humour sometimes...

Sheik's breaths came in short pants, and he was drenched with sweat. Dark red, almost black lines covered every bit of visible skin, stark against the pale hue it had taken on from the loss of blood, spreading steadily. Ascal watched, morbidly fascinated by the sight of the infection slowly coursing through every vein, every vessel in Sheiks body. His eyes were closed, but they were moving rapidly beneath the lids, like he was dreaming (or having a nightmare, which was all but guaranteed).

It was like an infection, one that your whole body tried to fight off all at once, but continued to fail slowly, but surely, as it spread. The fight wouldn't stop until every last bit of him was infected, his cell structure altering in subtle, but incredibly important ways. To Sheik, were he awake, he would feel like he was slowly dying, bit by bit. And in a way, he was. But what died didn't waste away and rot—no, it came back, stronger than ever.

Ascal touched at his wrist, which had stopped bleeding some time ago. The cut and bite marks were rapidly healing and fading away, which meant he hadn't given the boy too much of his own fluid. That was good. It meant he wouldn't be _that_ much of a useless wreck once they tried to get out of here.

Something splashed several corridors away, and Ascal looked to the gate, which he'd covered up with his coat, as well as Sheik's own. It wasn't much in the ways of camouflage, but at least it wasn't the dead giveaway that was a bent and broken metal grate. Nothing else seemed to move after the splash—just a rat or something, then.

Whatever distraction Link had created after his sudden transformation (the speed of which had caught even Ascal by surprise) had clearly been effective. Dehl's men seemed more concerned with fighting the giant wolf monster in their midst rather than catch the vampire, which suited Ascal just fine. Or maybe Link had killed them all already, which was also a nice thought. A pity, though. The boy was almost certainly dead himself, by now. If not from wounds sustained in the fighting, then from the rapid hunger that would overtake him after the transformation, or perhaps he'd been discovered and killed by the Watch...

So many possibilities. Sheik would be so sad when he woke up. Annoyed that the thought of that didn't fill him with glee anymore, Ascal reached out and lifted one of Sheik's eyelids, examining his eyes.

He had never turned a Sheikah before. Hell, he'd never even _seen_ a Sheikah kin. The hunters were always so adamant about killing themselves before a vampire could get their hands on them. As far as Ascal knew, such a thing had never occurred before, and he was filled with a sense of pride at having been the first one to do it, as well as observe what made _them_ unique in the face of the Gift.

The eyes, for one, were different. Whereas a Gerudo, Hylian, human, or the other sapient races would quickly have their eyes change to an amber colour, Sheik's seemed to stubbornly cling to the ruby red, sometimes described as the colour of blood, that made his people so instantly recognisable. Only flecks of amber seemed to take hold, four of them in a diamond formation around the iris. A cursory examination of the other eye confirmed an identical formation there as well.

Interesting, that. Would certainly make it easier to hide his true nature from those who only looked for solid amber...but did that mean he didn't receive the same night vision...he almost smacked himself. Of course, Sheikah probably saw better in the dark than most living creatures—why would he _need_ that to be changed now?

As for the rest...only time would tell whether Sheik's particular gift would be strength or speed, or whatever else was possible. Anger, if he was anything like Ascal or Dehl. Perhaps it was a hereditary trait? That'd certainly explain a few things. One last raised middle finger from Gideon...

Oh, how he looked forward to explaining Sheik's new family tree to him...

"Ah..."

A moan from the Sheikah in question brought Ascal back to the present, and he watched as his eyes fluttered open, roaming his surroundings slowly before settling on Ascal.

"Afternoon, _liebchen_ ," he said with a grin, adding the word at the spur of a moment, because it pleased him. "How are you feeling?"

"...awful," Sheik said after several false starts, his voice nothing but a croak. At least he was still verbal. That was good. Meant things were proceeding nicely. "Like...dying..."

"Well, you are, in a very technical and, I suppose, literal manner. Honestly, converting is a better word for it, in my opinion, but I was never passionate enough about it to bother the scholars." Not until after I killed them all, he added to himself. "But yes, you are dying. Your body is dying, but it's being replaced by something far stronger."

Sheik's eyes focused on him again, and Ascal could almost hear the clicking whirring of the gears turning in his head. It was almost endearing. "You're...you've turned me?" he asked.

"It was either that, or let you bleed out," Ascal said. "I even asked you if you wanted to die, and you said no. So, I was well within my rights to do what was necessary."

"Goddesses," Sheik muttered, eyes closing shut. "I'm becoming a monster!"

"We prefer the term _Night Walker_ , and so should you," Ascal said. "You should be happy. It is a _very_ exclusive group you are joining."

Whatever Sheik had to say to that was drowned by a pained groan and an attempt to move, but his body wouldn't obey. It wouldn't for quite a few hours yet. Ascal put a hand on Sheik's forehead, and grinned again when the Sheikah pressed into it, seeking the delightful cold. "Burning," he muttered, feeling the heat radiating off the boy.

"Like a furnace," Sheik moaned.

"That'll last for quite a while yet, I'm afraid. Your body is desperately trying to keep itself alive." He changed hands, ignoring how he was grinning like a fool at the sight of his kin yearning for his touch, if only for the relieving cold.

He lifted the shreds of Sheik's shirt to look at the bullet wound, satisfied to see that the black veins had reached it, and the bleeding had long since stopped. The holes were slowly beginning to knit themselves shut. Also a good sign.

"You're lucky I'm such a bleeding heart," he told the boy. "Otherwise I'd have left you there to die."

"Such...a softie," Sheik said, coughing.

"I'll have you know I'm the softest vampire you'll ever meet," Ascal said, and that was actually a lie or half-truth. He blamed that on the time he'd spent with the hunters. A long damn time, it had been... Something seemed to fall in place in Sheik's head, and his eyes opened fully, looking around the room, searching for something.

"Link?" he asked.

"He's busy leading Dehl and her merry little band on a chase," Ascal lied, deciding not to share his current scepticism towards Link's status.

"Did he...turn...thought I saw a wolf...?"

"He did a rather convincing howl, I'll admit, but he looked relatively normal when he took off," Ascal lied again.

Or, half-lied. After all, Link _had_ looked _relatively_ normal for a wolf monster who'd transformed in a hurry. Much faster than Ascal had expected, but then perhaps there was some sort of emotional reaction that had triggered it. He could imagine stranger things.

"He's keeping them off us for now."

Had Sheik not been half-delirious from pain and exhaustion, he'd probably have seen through Ascal's particular brand of bullshit, but right now he seemed to accept the story as truth...or perhaps he simply didn't have the energy to argue.

"How...long...will this take?" Sheik asked, breaths coming in short pants as a wave of discomfort came over him. Ascal didn't envy them those.

"It varies," he replied. "Could take days, could take hours. One particularly unfortunate individual took an entire week to change fully." He left out that _he_ had been that unfortunate bastard. Gideon had stayed with him the entire time. "You're quite far along, though, so I estimate you'll be done by nightfall...and then you'll sleep, and wake up feeling much better."

Sheik looked up at him. "You're being...nice," he said bluntly. "Why are you...being nice?"

Ascal briefly considered launching into a tirade about his paternal instinct going haywire and was telling him that Sheik was his child and his to protect and comfort and care for, but that would be traumatising for both of them (and only half-truthful), so he settled for a milder version instead.

"I just saved your life by giving you the Gift," he said. "When you're finished, your life will change for better or for worse, and since that is because of me I feel...vaguely responsible. Besides, I know how you're feeling right now—I've been through it myself. And while I'm a cruel and petty individual, I'm not one to turn down a relative in need."

"Relative?" Sheik asked, horror filling his voice.

"Well, my blood _is_ flowing in your veins right now," he said. "In walker terms, technically? I'm your father now."

Ascal was _not_ above having a little fun at Sheik's expense, and the absolutely horrified look that came to the Sheikah's face would keep him entertained for a _long_ time. "You are _not_...my father!" he tried to snarl, but it came out as more of a whine. Adorable.

"Can't argue with biology, _liebchen_ ," he said, shrugging. "But if that makes you uncomfortable...how about thinking of me as an older brother?"

"No!"

Ascal sighed theatrically. "Denied by my own blood—the tragedy!"

Sheik would very likely try to kill him when he recovered, Ascal knew, which was why he needed to have his fun now, before it was potentially too late. Sheik did not share the sentiment, and turned his head away with a huff. Or tried to, at least. It was an agonisingly slow motion, hindered by stiff muscles and a body that was still, to his pain and discomfort, trying to fight off the corruption that was spreading through his system.

"So...that's how...she's your daughter," he muttered, refusing to look at his sire.

"Dehl? Yes, that is correct," Ascal said. "What, you thought she was my _actual_ daughter?" He laughed. "Thank the gods, no. I never felt much of a need to have children of my own, and even if I did I wouldn't be able to."

"What do...you mean?" Still looking away, Sheik still sounded intrigued. He must have been absolutely desperate for a distraction from what was happening to him. Ascal had certainly needed it.

"I won't sugar-coat it—I'm sterile. All vampires are. We can't reproduce through any other means than our blood, spreading the Gift to others." He leaned back a little. "Not that the tools of the trade don't work, of course, but...well, if you were ever hoping to sire a little copy of yourself, you're out of luck, I'm afraid."

"Just...another way of...disappointing her," Sheik panted.

"Her?"

"Impa."

Ascal frowned, leaving the exchange hanging in the air, thinking back to the master hunter. An impressive specimen, and exactly what he'd imagined Rivea's daughter growing into. Angry and bitter, though, which was understandable. Vengeful, too. He regretted her death, honestly. He wondered if Iana, Sheik's mother, had been similar in demeanour, or if she'd maintained the happiness she'd always managed to spread everywhere...

"Why didn't you...let me die?" Sheik asked, suddenly looking back at him, his breath evening out. "You've already killed my aunt and grandmother, why not me too?"

Eugh, he'd hoped for a little more time to maintain that particular story, but...it would certainly be good to drop it, too. "Again," he said, "I did _not_ kill Impa. Rane shot her, and then she set off her trap. If anything, she killed herself in the hopes of taking me with her, but I did _not_ strike the killing blow." He cleared his throat. "And for that matter, I didn't murder your grandmother, either."

"You didn't kill her?"

"Oh, I killed her, all right. But it was not murder, like the hunters so desperately maintained," he said, the distinction failing to register with the boy. Not that he'd ever tried to explain what happened to the hunters...but then, it's not easy to do that, is it, when every hunter you encountered afterwards tried to kill you. "How much did Impa tell you?"

"Only that you killed her. And your name."

"The name I used back _then_ ," Ascal said with a click of his tongue. "Emory. Or Uncle Em, as I was to the kids."

"Eugh..."

"Terrible, isn't it?"

"So...?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Ascal asked. "Like I said, I feel it might change how you view a great many things."

"Try me."

Brave in the face of the unknown. Ascal had to give him that. Making himself a little more comfortable, Ascal opened his mind to the deluge of memories waiting to assault him at any moment, focusing on a specific set he'd once tried to forget completely. "Where to begin," he muttered. "Ah, yes, that is probably suitable."

He looked down, finding Sheik staring up at him expectantly, black veins covering his face. The pain would be tremendous by now, his body trembling. A distraction was indeed called for.

"I met your grandmother, Rivea, for the first time when she was thirteen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time! *jazz hands*


	69. The Monster

_He'd just arrived at the Studio, unloading his meagre amount of baggage from the cart. It hadn't quite been on the level of the coach, but it was a lot better than taking the journey on foot or horseback._

_He'd afforded himself the small luxury of travelling in relative comfort for once—the boat ride across the sea had drained him of energy. Of all the things the Gift_ didn't _prevent, it was seasickness. It had been an embarrassing ordeal, and he'd only had to think for about two seconds when confronted on the docks by a stagecoach-driver who'd offered to take him as far as Termina. He'd enjoyed that ride, and then hitched another one up the mountain itself to a local inn. A passing hunter with supplies had taken him the rest of the way._

 _He thanked the hunter—a Hylian who went by the name of Arno—as he pulled the cart away towards the shed, where the supplied would be unloaded. Looking up at the crumbling walls of the former monastery slash fortress, he sighed internally. He'd learned not to expect anything fancy after so many years, but just_ once _he'd like to see a hunter workshop that wasn't about to fall apart from disrepair. They spent so much tinkering and maintaining their equipment—why couldn't they show the same care for their homes?_

_My home too, now, he reminded himself and picked up his bag and pack, heading up the stairs to the entrance hall. It was still early in the morning, few of the residents were awake yet, and the guards on duty simply nodded tensely in greeting, already aware of who he was, pointing him towards the master's office._

_The halls were eerily empty, even for the hour. The Studio was rather unique in that it kept its hunters on a rotational basis, as opposed to a permanent base. It kept them on their toes, and allowed them to become familiar with the rest of the region's workshops and safe houses. Besides, there was only so much space to be had—the only hunters that remained here constantly were the master hunter, their family, and select individuals who had been assigned to the place. Like Emory._

_He fought down the feeling of disappointment with the place. He'd requested the transfer, after all. Renarra had become stifling, and he'd really come to despise the heat. The sun was constantly trying to murder him, too, and he was sick to death of hunting the same roaming packs of dune leapers over and over. And the sand...the_ fucking _sand! No, his brief stint in the desert had_ not _been enjoyable, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why the Hyrulian Gerudo clans clung to their valley as desperately as they did._

 _He rounded the corner and found the door to the master hunter's office, and knocked. Someone was already inside, and their voices were raised. One sounded like a child, the other an adult. Tensions were high, and he could hear the rushing pulses of both of them. They fell silent at his knock, however, and after a few moments, the adult spoke quietly in the Sheikah tongue, "_ We will discuss this later. Go down to the range and practice with Grigori. _"_

_The child sighed, and Emory stepped back as the door swung outwards. A Sheikah girl, her whitish-blonde hair cropped short save for a narrow strip on top of her head, held up in jagged peaks by something that smelled strongly like beeswax. She looked to be in her early teens, her posture slightly awkward, likely due to a recent growth spurt. Her crimson eyes roamed Emory up and down, taking in every detail._

_"You're new," she said bluntly, a slight accent slurring her words a bit, to which Emory could only nod in confirmation. "You have weird eyes."_

_"Arrived just now," he said, choosing to ignore the comment on his eyes. Some found them quite fetching, so there! He noticed a strange knife strapped to her thigh. The blade was narrow at the handle, but widened considerably outwards, and had a strange forward-bend at the last third of it. Meant to provide a stronger blow, perhaps. "My name is Emory."_

_The girl opened her mouth, hopefully to introduce herself, but the master hunter, a middle-aged Sheikah with tired eyes spoke before she could._

_"Rivea," he snapped. "Now!"_

_"Yes, master," she said with a bow, nodding to Emory before marching down the corridor, back the way Emory had come. The master waved him inside his office, shutting the door behind him._

_"Forgive my niece," he said apologetically. "She is reaching a difficult age, and I am having some trouble getting through to her."_

_"Nothing to forgive," Emory said, giving him a small, tentative smile. "And I_ do _have weird eyes, so she was not wrong."_

 _"She always opens her mouth before actually_ thinking _about what she's about to say, a habit I am trying to make her break, but..."_

_"Children rarely listen to their elders," Emory said smoothly. "I should know."_

_"I imagine you would," the hunter said, taking Emory's hand and shaking it firmly. "Welcome to the Studio..." he trailed off, waiting._

_"Emory," he supplied, aware that the master hunter was more than familiar with his name. There would have been a hefty amount of correspondence between the masters about him, after all. "Master...?"_

_"Aien," he replied. "Again, welcome to the Studio, Brother Emory. Please, have a seat."_

_Emory did so, sinking gratefully into the padded leather Aien had seen fit to supply the chair with. The master hunter took a seat behind his desk, behind which a massive suit of armour stood. It was a worn piece of equipment, full of holes, scratches, and bite marks. He could only surmise this was the famous Ivan's armour, one of the first hunters. The Studio had quite a collection of old relics of the old hunters, he'd been told._

_"How was the journey?" Aien asked._

_"Long," Emory admitted. "And exhausting. I underestimated the distance between Fallport and here."_

_"Most arrivals from the west do," Aien said, chuckling. "I hope you didn't travel by foot?"_

_"No, I took a coach."_

_"Ah, that explains the early arrival, then. I wasn't expecting you for another week or so."_

_"After spending the sea voyage confined to my cabin and throwing up, I was more than due for a little comfort, I figured."_

_"Vampires get seasick?" Aien asked, eyes widening slightly and leaning forward, eagerness lighting up his eyes. Emory wanted to laugh. Rumours had not been wrong about the master of the Studio being something of a bookworm, always ready to learn new things._

_"Dreadfully so," Emory said, smiling. "At least in my case. I cannot speak for the others." Nor was he all that keen on asking them either. If he never spoke to any of them again, it would be too soon. He cleared his throat and leaned forward as well. "I would like to apologise for the suddenness of my request, master," he spoke. "I hope I have not caused too much trouble."_

_"None at all," Aien said, shaking his head. "There are plenty of cells open and not in use at the moment, as well as workspace. If you wish to spend the winter, that will not be a problem either, though I would recommend introducing yourself to your new brothers and sisters_ before _the snows fall. It might make them a little nervous, being cooped up here with...with..."_

_"A vicious, murderous bloodsucker?" Emory suggested, still smiling._

_"Well...yes," Aien said sheepishly. "I wouldn't use those exact words myself, but—"_

_"A couple centuries ago, it would have been an accurate description," Emory said. "But that part of me is long gone, and I only wish to continue being a hunter. I will attempt to befriend them as quickly as possible."_

_"Good, that is good to hear," Aien said. "I was a bit nervous, accepting your transfer, but the other masters had nothing but good things to say about you, and while there were some disagreeing murmurs when I made the announcement, I think this will be good for us. There's just a matter of, er, your diet...Master Aiko wasn't too forthcoming on how she handled your needs..."_

_"I usually handle_ that _on my own," Emory said quickly. "Not_ people _, of course. Larger animals, and such. I assume you have elk and similarly-sized creatures here?"_

_"Not in the pass itself, I think, but further down the mountainside, sure." He looked uncertain. "Given that this place freezes over every winter, perhaps that will become a problem—"_

_"I can go for weeks, even months without feeding, master. it will not be an issue."_

_"From what I understand, starving is incredibly painful for your kind," Aien said. "I will ask my supply runners to bring a few extra horses, for emergencies."_

_"That's not necessary, I don't wish to be any troub—"_

_"You're one of_ my _hunters now, Emory, and I take care of my hunters."_

_"You do realise I am far older than you, yes?"_

_"And? I take care of them_ regardless _of age, experience, or needs."_

_He recognised the defiant gleam in the Sheikah's eyes, and simply nodded. Aiko had been the same, albeit slightly less smothering. "Very well, I place my wellbeing into your hands."_

_"Excellent," Aien said, beaming as he opened his desk drawer and withdrew some papers, along with an inkwell. "Just a few formalities for our records. Sign your name here, please." After doing so, Aien placed the papers back in his desk. "Now, just a few general rules and guidelines for when you operate at the Studio..."_

_Half an hour later, Emory shook Aien's hand once more and stood up to leave the office, the key for his cell (really just a very small room with a sturdy door) jingling in his coat pocket. He opened the door and slipped out, heading in the direction of the cells. He didn't fail to notice the shadow detaching itself from an alcove nearby, following him silently._

_She was good, in his opinion. A mortal would never have realised she was following them. He waited to act until he rounded a corner and slipped into an open doorway, just as quietly as she did (easier said than done with his bags), and waited. He heard her pause, and a quiet intake of breath when she noticed he was gone. She moved forward slowly, checking her corners. He waited until her back was turned to him entirely before stepping out._

_"It's rude to eavesdrop, you know," he said loudly, startling her. She drew the strange blade and rounded on him, pausing when she saw who it was. He gave her an amused look as she scowled, sheathing her blade and running a hand through her spiked hair._

_"Don't sneak up on me like that," she growled._

_"You were trying to do that to_ me _," he said. "Don't be a hypocrite."_

_She bared her teeth like an animal, barely holding back a snarl. She breathed, and then calmed down considerably, sheathing her blade. "I was curious," she admitted. "Never seen a vampire before."_

_"We prefer Night Walkers," he said in a slightly corrective tone. "What sort of weapon is that?" he asked, gesturing to the strange knife._

_"It's a_ kukri _," she replied in a tone that suggested he was stupid for having to ask. Typical of children that age, so certain they know everything, so cocky in their actions. And full of lip towards their elders. "What, never seen one before?"_

_"I haven't, actually, and that says a lot," Emory replied, holding out a hand. "May I?"_

_She drew it once more, handing it to him hilt first. He put his bags down and swung it a few times, testing its balance. Quite good, and_ definitely _made for powerful impacts. "Not just a weapon, then," he noted. "Also a tool."_

_"You can cut branches and break bones with it," she supplied helpfully, entranced by the way he moved as he flicked it from hand to hand, spinning it between his fingers in an unnecessarily flashy set of moves he'd learned specifically to impress people. He had cut himself an embarrassing amount of times, trying to perfect it. "Hey, can you teach me to do that?" she asked._

_"Maybe," he said. "But I'm not sure you can handle it."_

_"I can handle anything," she insisted, stepping forward to snatch the_ kukri _back, but he was already twirling it behind his back, out of her reach. "_ Anything _!"_

_"If you say, so," he said, grinning. "All right, I'll show you the basics, on two conditions."_

_"Name them!"_

_"Tell me your name, and then show me to the cells."_

_She blinked, surprised at the simple requirements. "My name is Rivea," she said, rolling the R smoothly. She was from the north, then, if Emory placed her accent correctly. Frozen lands covered in ice and snow, populated by hard people. Not really a part of the world Emory felt a need to visit—he could barely stand the dullness of the ice and snow he'd seen here at the Studio already. He'd be pretty damn desperate if he requested a transfer up there._

_"And mine's Emory," he replied._

_"I know."_

_"And I have weird eyes."_

_"So do I," she said, gesturing to her ruby-coloured pupils._

_He offered her the_ kukri _back, hilt first. "Not nearly as weird as mine," he assured her. "Mine reflect light, like a cat."_

_"Really?" Her uncle's curiosity had clearly been passed to her, in some manner._

_"Yes."_

_"Can you show me?"_

_"Perhaps later, when it's dark—for now you have somewhere to lead me, and I have a trick to teach."_

_"Follow me, then," she said, immediately stalking down the corridor, following the exact route her uncle had given him. On the way, she kept casting glances at him, only to look away when he caught her. They passed a few hunters who wished her good morning, and exchanged quick greetings with Emory, both paling a little when they realised the vampire had arrived with no great fanfare or bloodbath—no warning whatsoever, unlike every other monster who did the decent thing and caused a great deal of screaming._

_"They're afraid of you," Rivea said as they reached a long corridor where a large number of identical doors lined the walls. Once cells, then monks' quarters, and now hunters' rooms. Interesting evolution, all in all. She did not seem amused by their reactions. "Why?"_

_"You do know what a vampire is, yes?" Emory asked. "Or did you already forget that I am one?"_

_"I know what a vampire is," she said, blushing slightly. "I just don't see the problem—you're a hunter. One of us. You eat horses—"_

_"Only when I'm desperate," he cut in._

_"—when you're desperate, and not people," she corrected herself. "But you're not...you're not bad."_

_"You can tell that after a few minutes of knowing me, huh?" Oddly endearing, this one. He usually disliked children, but this one only seemed to intrigue him instead._

_"I can," she said with all the confidence of a teenager—which was quite a lot._

_Oh, if only you knew what an utter monster I can be, he thought, deciding he'd try to restrain himself more than usual when she was around, to preserve her illusion for a little longer._

_He smiled at her and turned away, quickly finding the cell assigned to him. Unlocking it, he stepped inside, satisfied to find the room a little bigger than he'd anticipated. Breathing out, he put his bags and pack on the floor by the bed, brushing a hand along the bedding. Clean bedding. Now there was a novelty. Did the Studio have a proper laundry service, then? That'd be unusual..._

_"You like it?" Rivea asked, lingering by the door._

_"I do," he replied with an easy, if tired smile. He wouldn't mind a short nap, and then a meal after sundown. He was sure he'd find_ something _small to eat in the general vicinity. "A room to myself was not a luxury I had in Renarra."_

_"Renarra?" she asked. "Where's that?"_

_"Across the sea, to the west," he said. "The part I stayed in wasn't much, honestly. Just lots and lots of sand—a desert."_

_"Lots of snow, where I'm from," Rivea said. "North."_

_Hah, nailed it, he thought to himself. It had been a while since he'd studied languages—maybe he should take that up again. He was about to drift off into his thoughts when he noticed her staring expectantly at him. "Yes?" he asked._

_"You promised to teach me," she said firmly, patting her_ kukri _. "Come on!"_

_He shook his head. "Not now, I'm afraid I'm too tired. How about tonight?"_

_"You promise?"_

_She looked so cute, torn between teenage aloofness and childish excitement. He didn't like making promises, but he supposed this wasn't exactly a life-changing one, so he nodded. "I promise."_

_"After supper?"_

_"After supper."_

_"Yes!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet._

_"Now, I believe your uncle was sending you to the range? To some Grigori?" he asked, watching the instant mood change that overcame her as she grimaced at the mention of the name. "That fun, is he?"_

_"He's so slow, and he won't let me shoot his Zukov!"_

_"I'm sure there's a reason for that," he said kindly. "He'll probably let you do it once you've proven you can handle it."_

_"I can handle—"_

_"Anything, I know," he said, cutting her off before she could raise her voice to a bluster again. So loud, unlike the silent shadow she'd been minutes ago. "Well, you'd better go and show him, then."_

_"I will!" she announced, heading for the door, pausing just before leaving. "After supper?" she asked again._

_"After supper."_

_"See you later, Emory!"_

_"See you later, Rivea."_

_And then she was gone, and Emory could only fall on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. No emotional attachment. That was the key to his entire existence. He'd have to be careful around this one._

* * *

_The peryton gave a final wail before it was silenced forever by Rivea, her_ kukri _cutting its throat like a hot knife through butter. The deer-like creature thrashed for a few moments before going still, its wings flapping one last time before collapsing in a heap at its back._

_Emory tried to keep his face neutral, trying not to give away how impressed he was at the sheer speed with which the young Sheikah had taken down her first solo target. He'd been there for backup, of course, but she'd never needed it. The careful mask broke, however, when Rivea turned to him with a huge smile, paying no heed to the blood running from a cut just above her ear—proof that the peryton was far from the benign-looking creature it appeared to be. This one had been ambushing and killing mundane hunters from a nearby village, and the Studio had elected to take it down._

_He grinned back at her, prepared for the sixteen-year-old projectile she became as she ran over to him, throwing herself into his arms. He hugged her close, feeling the delighted thrumming of her excitedly beating heart. Full of adrenaline. "Well done, Rivea," he said, ignoring the metallic scent of her blood that called so tantalisingly._

_She must have realised why his breath hitched slightly, and drew back, giving him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I forgot," she said, swiping at the bleeding cut, quickly covering it up with a square piece of fabric. "I'll have it looked at when we get home." Then she glanced back at the dead monster, and the grin was back in full force. "Did you_ see _me?!" she exclaimed. "Did you_ see _that?!"_

_"I did," he said, chuckling at her excitement._

_"I took it down all by myself!"_

_"You did," he agreed. "I considered stepping in when it picked you up and threw you over its back, but then you simply grabbed on." He neglected to tell her that he had panicked a little internally when the thing had tried to take off with her still clinging to its neck, refusing to let go. He had an image to maintain, after all._

_"But you knew I could handle it, right?" she demanded._

_"Of course," he said, voice filled with mock-insult. "Who do you take me for? Grigori?"_

_Grigori, the Studio's master-at-arms, was a grouchy human who, despite his gruff demeanour, always seemed desperate to invent reasons for why the recruits he trained couldn't be sent off on hunts. Many of his students interpreted that as him thinking they weren't good enough, that he underestimated them, but Emory knew that the ageing man had simply seen too many of the children he'd trained die. If anything, he didn't consider_ himself _good enough to train them, hence his attempts to hold them back._

_When Emory confronted him with this, Grigori had made him swear to keep it a secret. As long as the children kept thinking he was being a perfectionist bastard, they'd keep working harder to impress him, and therefore be more prepared for the outside world and the monsters in it. Flawed logic, but Emory didn't bother questioning it._

_"No, you're nothing like Grigori," she said with an irreverent tone. "You're not nearly as tough."_

_He laughed. "Oh, I can be plenty tough when I choose to be,_ liebchen _," he said, ruffling her mohawk. She squeaked and pulled away, running her hands through the spikes to ensure they were still there. That only made Emory laugh even more—what he'd done to her hair was nothing compared to the wringer the peryton had put it through._

_"So?" she asked after fixing it, looking at him expectantly. "Did I pass? Am I a hunter now?"_

_He made a show of hemming and hawing, going the extra mile of inspecting the peryton's carcass, as well as the general state of her. "Well, there were a few things you could have done better," he said. "For one, walking right up to it and calling it a pansy, followed by the phrase 'Come get some', is not exactly the dignified way of issuing a challenge to our prey, but since I think_ it _was just as surprised as me, I suppose I could file it under a successful attempt at subterfuge." He'd nearly cracked up laughing when she'd done it, but she didn't need to know that. "That said, next time, try to get the drop on your target the traditional way, please."_

_"I will...try to do that, Em," she replied, knowing perfectly well that he'd found it hilarious. "Anything else?"_

_"Nothing major, I'd say. Some minor flaws in your techniques, easily explained by the excitement and heat of battle," he continued, going through the mental notes he'd made watching her take on the creature that was easily twice her size. It had made him nervous in a way he hadn't felt in years. "I'd also recommend that you work on your accuracy with the throwing knives," he added, gesturing to the knife that had struck the tree trunk a mere few inches away from his arm._

_She didn't look too regretful at almost having struck him. If anything, he'd assumed she did that on purpose, as if to give him a reason to yell at her._

_"Also," he said finally, "you took a while longer than necessary to pick up its trail. You missed several obvious signs of its passage."_

_That got to her, at least, and she looked down at her boots. "How many?" she asked._

_"I counted at least half a dozen blatantly visible tracks, and a couple faded ones." He crossed his arms. "That had me a little disappointed, I will admit."_

_"Sorry..."_

_"All that said," he said, lightening his tone considerably, "you performed admirably in the face of your first solo hunt, and managed to take the beast down all by yourself. You have definitely passed, Rivea, and you may now call yourself a real hunter."_

_She threw herself at him again, screaming excitedly with her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "Thank you," she exclaimed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"_

* * *

_There was a feast held that evening in honour of Rivea's successful test, and most of the hunters in the area had gathered to welcome their new sister into the fold. The woman of the hour barely stood still, zipping all over the place to speak with seemingly every hunter in the grand hall, all of them surely eager to share some advice and tips with the newbie._

_Emory watched her from his seat, next to Aien, who was also regarding his niece with a gaze full of pride. "I have no idea how you managed to wrangle her, Emory, but it clearly worked," he said, clinking his goblet of wine to Emory's, which was filled with water. "Look at her!"_

_Emory smiled at the master hunter, shrugging. "Honestly, I think she was the one who wrangled_ me _, master," he replied. "She spent the first few weeks glued to my side."_

_"No wonder, that," Aien said with a grin. "Your arrival was likely the most interesting thing she'd seen in a while. She was bound to be fascinated by you, especially when you taught her that knife trick." He gave the vampire a piercing grin. "Oh yes, I knew about that, by the way."_

_Emory sank slightly down in his chair, looking embarrassed. "She wouldn't leave me alone until I promised to teach her," he mumbled, to which the master hunter laughed and slapped his shoulder._

_"Yes, that does sound like her," Aien said. "Oh, would you look at that," he the muttered._

_Emory's eyes quickly finding Rivea in the crowd once more. She was talking to another Sheikah around her age. A boy. He glared, which Aien apparently found very amusing._

_"I take you don't like Rama very much?" Aien asked, eyeing the pair with a calculating expression. Emory wanted to groan. He already knew what was happening here._

_"I don't," Emory confirmed, nodding. "He is a smug little prick."_

_Aien snorted. "Isn't that how you describe just about anyone who's younger than yourself?" he asked. "Including me?"_

_"Yes, but you've_ earned _the right to be smug," Emory muttered. "He hasn't. He's just a little shit who's getting too big for his breeches."_

 _"He has done quite well on his hunts," Aien pointed out. "He drowned a_ nøkk _, did you hear? He drowned an aquatic beast in its own river. Even_ you _have to admit that's impressive."_

_"Unnecessarily flashy," Emory scoffed. "From what I heard, he could just as easily have cut its head off; there was no need to prolong the thing's pain and suffering." He looked back at the two, wishing Rivea would find someone else to speak to. Rama was standing too close, touching her arm too easily. His hair was done up in a complex series of braids, speaking of vanity beyond words. "He's loud—"_

_"Unlike my niece?" Aien said._

_"—in a_ bad _way," Emory added._

_"I think they make a good pair."_

_Emory heartily disagreed, but it was not his place to comment on a Sheikah clan leader's decisions in this. "She's going to kill him out of annoyance," he said, sulking. "Just you wait."_

_Rama seemed to notice that they were being observed, and looked back towards the head table. He smiled and nodded at Aien, but Emory simply received a cold stare filled with hostility. Emory returned it. The boy despised vampires, and made no secret of it, and had openly spoken out against Emory's presence in their ranks more than once. Of course, nothing physical ever came of it, so Aien usually settled for admonishing the boy whenever he caught wind of it. He believed it to be a harmless phase, and was certain Rama and Emory could settle their differences if only they were willing to speak civilly to each other._

_Emory had tried. The boy refused._

_"Despite your personal feelings, I have seen no reasons for why they shouldn't—"_

_A loud smack, and Rivea was stalking away from Rama, who was holding his cheek and staring after her. She had struck him, but Emory saw nothing but infatuation in Rama's eyes. He suppressed a groan. Bloody teenagers, he thought. Fucking puberty._

_"There's one," he pointed out to Aien, unable to contain his triumphant grimace._

_"Perhaps there was some sort of misunderstanding—"_

_"I doubt it, but I'll find out," Emory said, rising from his seat. "Keep wonder boy away, yeah?"_

_"Er, yes, sure." Aien raised a hand to Rama, beckoning him forwards. "Rama, a word?"_

_Emory went in the direction he'd seen Rivea disappear, already guessing where she'd gone. Predictable was not usually a word he'd apply to the Sheikah, but in this she was particularly set in her habits. This was confirmed when he found the door to his cell opened a crack, and the girl herself lounging on his bed, staring up at the roof with a scowl on her face._

_"It's a little rude to leave one's own party, wouldn't you say?" he asked. "Especially abandoning your uncle to handle all your cousins by himself. Especially bad decorum, slapping one of them."_

_Rivea snorted. "He's no cousin of mine," she said, sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed, letting Emory sit down next to her. "And he deserved it."_

_"I am as much of a proponent of slapping Rama around as the next person," Emory said, eliciting a small giggle from her, "but it_ does _send a rather bad message if you can't settle your disputes with words. What did he say to upset you?"_

_She looked at him, then at her hands. "He insulted you," she said, voice barely above a whisper._

_"He's far from the first to do that," he pointed out. "Nor will he be the last."_

_"He's supposed to be your brother, not your enemy," she insisted. "He called you a bloodsucker—"_

_"Which I am—"_

_"But you don't hurt people!"_

_It was an argument he heard often. Unlike Rivea, the rest of the Studio's hunters hadn't really warmed up to Emory's presence over the past three years. They worked with him, were civil (if a bit cold) with him, but he hadn't established anything that could be called a friendship with any of them. Aien was an exception, but he was the master hunter—he was_ required _to be friendly with him...even though it was probably genuine._

_There had been a few exceptions—certain temporary assigned hunters that found him fascinating, even attractive. There had been a few...encounters of a decidedly carnal nature. Most of them had been experimentation on the hunters' part—some liked what he had to offer, others didn't. But they all went away sooner or later—some were reassigned, others perished. He found he mourned those who did, even if their last words to him had been vicious insults after what Emory would have deemed a rather pleasant night. He'd never understand mortals—could not put himself back into the mind-set he'd once had._

_Rivea, bless her heart, never stopped trying to convince the others that Emory was far from dangerous—which was just not true, but he still liked having someone championing him. She took his side in any dispute, viciously spitting back insults the others offered the vampire when he passed. Usually, this would have made her something of a pariah, a fellow outcast, but her position as Aien's heir and niece granted her a fair bit of leeway. That was a good thing, it kept the ire focused on Emory rather than her._

_"But I have in the past," he said, wondering why he was being so reasonable. "And I might again, depending on what happens in the future. It's impossible to tell."_

_"But you've never hurt_ me _," she said miserably. "That should be proof enough."_

 _"I could never hurt you,_ liebchen _," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I wouldn't dare bring down your uncle's righteous anger upon myself. He is_ scary _when the anger takes him."_

 _It was a rare occurrence, but Aien_ was _terrifying when he lost his temper, usually when a hunter was lost, either to a beast or random attacks. A Sheikah hunter had been lynched by a mob in one of the smaller villages that littered the countryside, the people convinced that_ she _was the one who'd brought the sickness to their village in the first place. It had taken Emory several hours to calm Aien down, and convince him to rescind the purge order. Then Emory had taken the trip down to the place and recovered her body._

 _He had_ accidentally _neglected to inform the villagers of the cure for the particular sickness that was ravaging their community, however, and as far as he knew the place was now abandoned. Alea had been one of the...one of the good ones._

_Aien had known, of course, but made no comment._

_"He is," Rivea agreed._

_"Most hunters here have made up their minds about me anyway," he continued. "Rama included. It is a waste of time and energy trying to convince them that I am anything but the monster in disguise, waiting for a weak moment to kill you all." She glared at him, but he ignored it. "Most of them are good people, regardless of their feelings towards me. You shouldn't give them up for my sake."_

_"But they keep saying—"_

_"Just tell them you're not interested in that particular opinion," he cut her off. "In fact, just say you don't want to talk about me at all. That'll keep the topic from coming up, and you can befriend them over all the relevant things. Give them a second chance."_

_"Even Rama?"_

_He grimaced. "No, not Rama. Rama is an arsehole. You stay away from that boy."_

_She giggled and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Em."_

_Hours later, he would still be kicking himself for accidentally convincing her to give the uppity little shit a second chance. Years later, he'd regret not killing him when he had the chance._

* * *

_Rivea grew into a beautiful woman, and a magnificent hunter. She retained her signature hair style, but the peaks and spikes weren't quite as severe, almost softening in conjunction with her personality. That didn't mean her fire went out. She was as fierce as ever among her friends and family, but she was perhaps more civil with strangers and those she_ didn't _like. Unfortunately, that group did not include Rama...but perhaps that was actually a blessing, that they got along, since their marriage was arranged soon after she turned eighteen._

_Emory remembered little of the joining ceremony, and even less of the party afterwards. Someone had brought an entire distillery's worth of vodka to the Studio for the occasion, and he was damned if he was going to watch Rivea being tied to the little snot sober. She'd admonished him for his escapades, but forgiven him immediately, knowing why he'd been a little...out of sorts._

_"I only did as you said," she'd muttered. "I gave him a second chance."_

_"I distinctly remember telling you_ not _to," he'd argued._

_"To a sixteen-year-old! Of course I was going to do the exact opposite!"_

_"Where did the sweet girl I met when I first arrived here go?" he'd asked with a wail, burying his face in his pillow. "She has been replaced by a cruel monster!"_

_"I'm right here," she'd said, lying down beside him, pulling his feebly struggling form into her arms. "I'm still here, Em. I'm just...a little different."_

_"A lot different," he'd corrected._

_"A lot different," she'd agreed._

_"Still a little shit, though."_

_"Says the grown man refusing to leave his bed because he's upset." She'd poked his side, making him laugh. "I've been talking to Rama—"_

_"Gods, I hope so, he's your bloody husband now."_

_"Shh! I've been talking to Rama, and I've made him promise to at least_ try _and befriend you, to be civil to you, if nothing else. He knows how much you mean to me." She'd pushed her face into his neck, nuzzling close as she had when she was younger. "I want the people I love most in the world to get along."_

_"Now that's just astronomically unlikely," he'd muttered._

_"Will you_ try _, please?"_

 _He'd felt the pout at his neck, and cursed the gods for ever having let her figure out that was one of his weaknesses. He'd nodded and let out a put-upon sigh. "Fine, for your sake, I will_ try _to get along with your arsehole husband."_

 _And he had. Rama had been trying too, because as much as Emory feared for the arranged marriage, the boy_ did _love Rivea. It wasn't easy, but a somewhat neutral relationship formed between Emory and Rama, wherein each of them did not comment upon each other being a monster or inadequate in bed (who said? Certainly not me, my boy!) whenever they were alone in a room together. It was the best they could hope for, really, but Rivea seemed happy, so they kept trying._

* * *

_Six years later, Impa was born, followed by Iana after another two._

_At Impa's birth, Rivea and Rama had been nauseatingly happy. Emory feared they had sired a new generation of stuck-up brats like their father had been, refusing to see them until Aien had one day come into Emory's office and bodily dragged him to their room, where Rivea had all but forced him into a chair and shoved Impa in his arms._

_And so Uncle Em had been born. There were more of Rivea's features in the girl's face than Rama's, so he told himself that this was Rivea's daughter—only hers. Impa had been sceptical to the new face above her, but a quick round of tickling of her belly had sealed that particular friendship._

_Emory was actually present for Iana's birth. Rama had been out on a hunt, and was still on his way home. Rivea had begged him to stay, and he'd agreed. He shouldn't have. It had been a while since he'd last fed, and the room was soon absolutely inundated with the smell of blood. It had been too much, and when Rivea had started screaming, he'd passed out._

_Not his finest moment._

_When he woke up lying in a bed, with another newly born, bundled-up Sheikah in the crook of his arm, just as similar to Rivea as Impa had been, he'd only smiled._

_He liked being an uncle._

* * *

_It was bound to happen sooner or later. Emory had been a fool to think otherwise, believing that diplomacy and their shared love of her had been enough to keep things civil. He should have known that Rama would take exception to his own daughters loving a vampire like family. Rivea had met Emory long before she'd met Rama—there was nothing he could do about that bond, but his daughters...no, he would not have them corrupted. Something had to snap sooner or later, and Emory was too blind to see it coming._

_Emory was training the young Impa and Iana, ten and eight, in gymnastics when their father entered the room, observing the session for a while before taking Emory aside._

_"There's a developing situation in Whiteridge," he'd said, referring to the growing village further north in the pass. "Something is causing the people there great distress. Aien have already dispatched Arno to investigate, but he'd also feel better if you went to back him up."_

_"All right, I'll go."_

_It wasn't far, and Emory, too, felt that Arno could use someone to watch his back. Just in case. He'd bid the girls goodbye, promising to be return later and continue the book he'd been reading for them at bedtime, and set off. He'd reached Whiteridge soon after nightfall, finding Arno waiting for him at what passed for the village square._

_"Emory, good to see you," Arno greeted, as if he'd been expecting him._

_Warning sign number one, ignored by Emory._

_"Arno," he replied, shaking his hand. "Rama sent me to back you up. Found anything?"_

_"Not much," the Hylian admitted. "Vague descriptions of a four-legged beast stalking among the houses at night. I found some tracks, but most of them are impossible to read, too weathered down by the wind and the villagers' boots."_

_"Any idea as to the nature?" Emory asked as Arno took him to the clearest tracks. He didn't recognise them. Looked to be some sort of cloven-footed animal, but not of a shape and size he could identify._

_"No, but I figured I'd investigate a little further," Arno replied, pointing to the woods. "The tracks lead in there. Care to join me?"_

_Warning sign number two, ignored by Emory._

_"Sure," he said. "Lead the way."_

_Deeper and deeper into the woods they went. The tracks soon disappeared, but Arno seemed to find clues whenever they became unsure._

_"Can you see or smell anything? Hear anything?" Arno asked as they approached an open clearing, slowing down slightly. "The tracks end here..."_

_"I'll check the clearing," Emory volunteered, his superior vision and sense of smell more suited for tracking in the first place._

_"All right, I'll watch your back." Arno loaded his crossbow, giving him an encouraging nod._

_Warning sign number three, ignored by Emory._

_A whole group was waiting for him in the clearing, composed of the hunters he knew for a fact had never accepted his presence at the Studio. The ones who'd hated him for years, yet inexplicably never transferred away, perhaps out of some reasoning that this was_ their _place, not Emory's, and that he should be the one to leave, not them._

_He'd been too focused on finding a beast, his mind only watching for the signs of monsters. Not people. Footsteps behind him, and he knew that Arno was pointing the crossbow right at his back._

_"What is this?" Emory demanded._

_"Your time has come,_ vampire _," the leader of the group said, spitting the word out like it tasted horrible. Fredrik, a human in his thirties. Emory had abandoned all attempts at befriending years before, finding it to be a lost cause. "Rama doesn't want you anywhere near his children."_

_"Then perhaps Rama could have told me this himself," Emory said, his eyes sweeping slowly over the seven hunters, including Arno, who Rama had seemingly told to intimidate him. "Instead of sending an entire party to do his dirty work for him."_

_Fredrik ignored his accusation, sneering. "Rama recognises what you've done for the hunters, and offers you a chance to walk away. Leave the Studio, and never come back."_

_"I quite like it here, though," Emory said lightly, settling his face into a careless mask. Seven, and not the best hunters the Studio had to offer. Easy enough, he figured. "Despite certain unpleasant...elements...this is the closest thing I've come to actually enjoying living at a workshop."_

_That was actually true, though he suspected it was more because of Rivea that he considered the Studio a home than anything else._

_"Don't play games, Emory," Fredrik said, drawing his sword. "Just take it like a man, and leave. Go back to your cave or whatever vampires stay in, and go back to the monster you're pretending not to be. Before you hurt the kids."_

_Emory's eyes went cold, and he held his breath for a good five seconds. "I would_ never _hurt them," he said quietly, barely able to hold back a snarl at the very idea. "Everyone knows this."_

_"Oh, but what if you have a relapse? You haven't eaten in a while, right?" Fredrik asked mockingly and...dangerously. "Such an easy meal, a little girl, wouldn't you say? You never know what might happen if you return to the Studio—"_

_It had been a long time since his temper had been triggered so easily, and for the sake of children that weren't even his. They were Rivea's. His best friend's. He'd die before he let something happen to them. He'd_ kill _before he let something happen to them!_

_Fredrik certainly didn't expect Emory to suddenly appear right in front of him, having crossed the clearing in less than three steps, almost faster than the eye could see. He definitely didn't see the knife appearing in Emory's hand, and only felt the softest of whisper against his skin as the razor-sharp blade cut through his throat._

_The man hadn't even fallen before Emory moved to the next hunter. Ruby, a Gerudo of the Valley, had never told anyone her real name. And now she never would. Her golden eyes widened as Emory's knife pierced her heart, unable to react in time to defend herself._

_Behind him, Emory heard Arno curse loudly, and the click of a crossbow's trigger. Grabbing the closest hunter, he dragged the man in front of him, shielding himself with the live body. There was a meaty thunk and a scream._

_He saw red. These beasts intended to hurt Rivea's children and blame it on him if he didn't leave. He wouldn't leave. Not while monsters like these were on the loose. He only vaguely heard the screams, barely felt the warm blood splashing against his skin. His thoughts weren't even strafing the idea of feeding. Their blood was foul, filthy, disgusting._

_Arno was last. He came at Emory with his sword, but slipped in the snow, bringing him off-balance. Emory caught him, continued his downward descent. A sharp rock lay nestled beneath them, barely jutting out of the snow. One, two, three times Emory slammed Arno's head into it, and on the third there was a wet smash, and Arno's brains spilled out onto the ground._

_Panting and coated in blood, Emory watched the carnage he had wrought. He'd devolved, become what he'd never wanted to be again. A monster. The hunters hadn't been killed as much as torn apart, bits and pieces lying everywhere. Only Fredrik and Ruby were intact. The Gerudo was dead, but Fredrik was still somehow alive, clutching at his opened throat._

_"Whatever happens next," Emory said, standing above the man. "Is on Rama's shoulders."_

_He lifted his leg, and brought his boot down on Fredrik's face with all his strength. It caved in, the skull offering less resistance than brittle-thin ice._

* * *

_He came to his senses when he was halfway back to the Studio, sprinting the whole way. He would kill Rama, he'd kill anyone who tried to hurt Rivea or her children, he'd murder every single person he came across if it meant keeping them safe._

_He stopped in his tracks as the fortress came into view, outlined against the black clouds and weakly shining moon. No. More death was not the solution. There had to be an explanation, people needed to know what Rama had done, what he'd ordered his fellow hunters to do!_

_...but that wouldn't work. Rama was respected. Rama was loved. Next in line for the master hunter position, if rumours were true. Emory was covered in the blood of his brother hunters—Rama would say he'd gone feral, had finally revealed his true nature. There was no way he could deny it—he_ had _killed Arno and the others when he possibly could simply have beaten them badly and disarmed them. He'd lost control, and slaughtered them. He'd ruined it all._

 _...he_ was _a monster._

_He couldn't stay. His time as a hunter was over. The news of this would spread to every workshop in the world. He'd be branded a traitor everywhere he went._

_Heh, a traitor for the second time. Irony reared its ugly head once again._

_He could take Rivea and the children with him. Could march straight in there, grab them, and leave. Rivea would understand, surely? Impa and Iana, they'd be...they'd be afraid..._

_He had no hope against the veritable army of hunters waiting within the fortress walls. Even at his peak, Emory wouldn't stand a chance...and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten the kids, make_ them _think he was a monster too. That'd mean Rama had won._

 _Oh, if only I could get my hands on him, Emory thought. There'd be nothing left but_ paste _!_

_No, there was no time, and no way to get to him. Cursing under his breath and ignoring the crushed feeling in his chest, he left the road and raced through the snow to the backside of the fortress. He couldn't even go in the front door!_

* * *

_He should have just left, not even bothering with his belongings, but he had acquired certain items over the years he could not bear to leave behind. Most precious was a necklace Rivea had made him a year after they'd met, which he always left behind when he went hunting, in case he lost it. A simple thing, a shiny piece of quartz on a bit of string, but still precious. Then the things the girls had made him..._

_Too many to think about. He just needed to reach his cell, throw it all in a pack, hopefully manage to write Rivea a note, and then get the hell out of the fortress and off the mountain. With luck, he'd be miles away by the time Rama realised his plan had failed. That gave Emory a bit of satisfaction. Rama had completely underestimated what an angry vampire was capable of._

_His plan went out the window, however, when he entered his cell and found Rivea sitting on the floor, a prepared chessboard in front of her. Fuck, he'd forgotten about the weekly game! She looked up at him with a beginning smile as he entered. "There you are," she said. "I was worried you'd forgo—Em!" she gasped, seeing the blood. "What happened?!"_

_He could have told her a lie. Could have said he'd encountered bandits on the hunt with Arno. Could have said anything, really. Hell, it could even have been horse blood, after a frenzied feeding. But in his moment of desperation, and out of a need for revenge against Rama, he told her the truth. Told her of the ambush, how he'd killed them all, and that he was leaving before he became a sitting duck for every hunter in the area._

_He almost expected her to deny it, to call him a liar, refusing to believe her husband was capable of such a thing. But she only nodded slowly, her face slowly morphing into an expression of stone. "I should have known," she said. "He's been watching the girls too closely lately, especially when you were nearby. I thought he was just trying to learn how to deal with them from you; you've always been so good with them."_

_Emory snorted. "Well, good to know I wasn't the only blind one," he said, already packing his bag. "Do me a favour? Don't tell anyone I was here. If possible, wait until morning to reveal that anything's out of the ordinary. Let Rama think it's_ me _lying dead in the snow out there, instead of his little minions."_

_He paused when she grabbed a second pack and began filling it with weapons and supplies, giving him the barest of glances._

_"What are you doing?" he asked. "I have to travel light, and—"_

_"I'm coming with you," she said firmly. "I'll escort you to the bottom of the mountain. You'll need me to vouch for you, if Rama's set up ambushes further down as well."_

_He gaped at her. "Absolutely not, do you have any idea how dangerous—"_

_"Shut up, Emory," she snapped, using his proper name for once. That was never a good thing. "My husband just tried to have you killed, and you think I'm going to stay out of this? Hell no! I'll make sure you get out safely, and then Rama and I are going to have a_ very _serious conversation about this. If you stay in the region, we can meet up again in Termina."_

_"We?"_

_"You, me, and the girls," she said. "If Rama thinks he can get away with this with his honour intact, he's got another thing coming." She touched the_ kukri _still strapped to her thigh. "And he can just_ try _to stop me. Uncle will have his head if he does."_

_A small flare of hope was lit in his chest. "Can you get the girls now?" he asked, the flare snuffed out immediately as she shook her head._

_"Rama's with them now, teaching them to shoot," she said sadly. "I'll have to be separate them when I get back here and have spoken with Uncle."_

_"You shouldn't have to escort me—"he tried again, but her finger on his lips stopped him._

_"I want to, Emory. You're my dearest friend," she said. "You've taken care of me for years. Please, let me take care of you for once."_

_He'd never been able to tell her no._

* * *

_It was too good to be true. They'd made it halfway down the mountain, not running into a single hunter (or anyone else, for that matter) on the road. Their horses were fresh, Emory's pack was full of supplies and money he'd saved up. He'd get away in no time and then...then meet up with Rivea and the girls in Termina. The plan was so clear and simple, and within reach..._

_It had been such a beautiful spring. Pleasantly warm, lots of sun, and nature slowly coming alive around them. With the sun came heat, and with heat the snow that had blanketed the land for the whole winter began to melt. Flooding was a natural occurrence in times like these... Emory had anticipated that._

_He'd forgotten that the snowmelt could undermine entire hills and mountainsides. He'd forgotten it was impossible to tell such a thing happened before it was too late._

_It happened too fast for him to react. One moment he and Rivea were riding down a gently sloping hill leading into a valley, which they could follow to the border. The next, the entire hill was rolling under their horses' hooves, the poor animals reacting with shrieks of fear as their footing disappeared. Emory was thrown from his saddle as a tree, its roots ripped out by the slide, struck the ground in front of him. He saw a flash of white-blonde hair as Rivea rushed past, her hand reaching out for him. He tried to take it; he missed. Then everything went black._

* * *

_He woke up to utter agony. Every bit of him hurt, and his lower half had gone unpleasantly numb. The ground beneath him was solid rock, with several sharper pebbles having embedded themselves in his shoulders and front, deviously sharp._

_After a long moment of gathering his thoughts, he tried to move. His legs wouldn't obey, staying absolutely still no matter how much he willed them to twitch. Turning his head, he saw why. The remains of a giant tree, a log, lay across his back. It must have snapped his back. He cursed inwardly. That would take forever to heal on its own._

_The mudslide had taken him to the bottom of the valley, barely avoiding being buried in the debris and rubble of the slide. His horse was nowhere to be seen, and Rivea—_

_"Rivea!" he tried to call out, coughing up an unpleasant amount of filthy water at the same time. He dragged himself out from beneath the log, thankful for the strength the Gift offered him. "Rivea!"_

_It didn't take him long to find her, and he saw with horror how badly injured she was. Crushed up against a stone wall, she'd taken the brunt of the slide's debris. Only her top half was visible, her left arm crushed under a boulder larger than herself, the other hanging limply at her side. She looked unconscious, drenched in mud and bleeding from dozens of cuts, nicks, and scrapes._

_"Riv, can you hear me?" he crawled over pathetically. There was a heartbeat, but it was weak, and growing weaker by the second. She was dying. "Riv, please!"_

_"Em?" she asked, her eyes opening a fraction, finding his face and smiling weakly. "There...you are..."_

_"Hold on, I'll get you out of there," he promised, unable to even move his legs. He began tugging at the smaller pieces of debris, intent on uncovering her and find the bleeding so he could stop it. Then he saw her legs. Twisted and broken and mangled, there was little to suggest what even were, the only reliable tell being her trousers. His breath hitched._

_Gods, no, no, no!_

_"It's all right...Em..." she said. "S'not...your fault..."_

_"The hell it isn't," he snarled, crawling up to her. He found her_ kukri _, sheathed at her side for once, and drew it, bringing his wrist up. "But don't worry, Riv. I'll help you. I'll fix you. Drink this—"_

_"No, Em," she said, pushing his wrist away. "I...I don't want it..."_

_"Rivea, you're dying!" he exclaimed, his eyes running wet with tears. "I can't let that happen!"_

_"You have to," she said gently, still smiling. "I've seen what...being a walker...has done to you...don't want...the same for...me..." She stroked his cheek. "My friend...please, respect me...enough not to...force me..."_

_"You can't die," he denied. "Please, don't leave me alone..."_

_"I was always going...going to die, Em." Her breath was growing shallower. "This way, it just...happens a little...quicker...and I can...be of use..."_

_"Use?" Surely not. She wasn't suggesting...?_

_She tilted her head, even that slight movement causing her pain. "Take my blood...or what remains...heal yourself, and go."_

_"I'm not going anywhere," he growled, trying to offer her his corrupted blood again. "Not without you!"_

_"They'll come searching for us," she said, still denying the Gift. "You can't move...and turning takes too long...they'll find us...they'll kill you...I won't let that happen. Please, Em...let me help you...before it's too late..."_

_He wouldn't. He would never take her blood. He'd rather die._

_Rivea had always been able to read his thoughts. With a smile, she touched the hand holding her_ kukri _. "Only one of us is...dying down here, me..."_

_He couldn't stop the tears now. They flowed down his cheeks in big ugly drops. "I don't want your blood," he tried to say, hoping he sounded as firmly decided as he felt._

_"Promise me, Emory?"_

_"What?"_

_"Once you're away...contact my uncle? Ask him to send the girls to you. I don't...I don't trust Rama to raise them."_

_She didn't give him any time to answer, suddenly ripping the_ kukri _out of his hands and holding it to her own throat, giving him another of her small smiles, the ones she'd always reserved for_ him _, and swiftly drew it across. She gasped, and the crimson flowed immediately._

_Injured and confused and angry and sad as he was, Emory found all willpower draining when the smell hit his nose. His lips found the great slit she'd opened, and he drank as deeply as he could. All the while, he felt Rivea's hand landing in his hair, rubbing his head slower and slower, until it dropped lifelessly at her side._

_It took several minutes before he dared to look up at her face, frozen in that smile of hers. She almost looked peaceful, in death. Emory screamed._

* * *

_It was mere hours before he was well enough to walk again. Rivea's blood gave his body the strength to repair itself much faster than if he'd simply waited. Even so, able to move again, he found himself unable to leave. He found himself sitting beside Rivea, holding her hand, eyes clenched shut, as if wishing hard enough would bring her back._

_"Why?" he whispered to her. "I could have_ saved _you!"_

_It was as much time he was granted. Soon, he heard voices and the sounds of horses carried on the wind, coming closer and closer. One voice in particular was familiar. Rama's. He was leading the party, then, searching for his wife...and all he found was the broken, drained mess Emory had left her._

_"Have to go," he muttered to himself, gathering what little of his supplies had survived. "Like you said." He paused once more, taking one last look at the girl, the woman, the one person in the world he'd considered a friend. A flash caught his eye, and he bent down, picking up her_ kukri _. After a moment's hesitation, he sheathed it in his belt. "Goodbye, Rivea," he whispered, and set limped his way further into the valley, away from the Studio, away from Rama, away from the girls._

_He never had the courage to contact Aien._

_He never dared go back for the girls._

_He was a coward, a murderer, a monster._

_That was fine—he'd only been playing at being different than the rest of his kin, after all. Sooner or later, he'd have to embrace what he truly was. Best to get it over with. He travelled north, and then east. To Hyrule._

_He dammed up what he could remember of his life of the past two hundred years, of his time as a hunter. He forced himself to forget, forced himself to not care._

_Emory was dead, and in his place a different creature emerged._

_A monster by the name of Ascal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it. The truth at last. Sheik's grandfather was a real piece of work.


	70. The Temple

Dehl paced around the study, clutching at the wound in her side. It was healing quickly, but it wasn't the wound itself that wouldn't let her settle down. It was what had caused it. She clenched her jaw as the wound gave another sting.

When had the hunters started letting _them_ into their ranks? The damn beasts were ticking time bombs, liable to go off and turn into their feral selves at any moment! She'd had them. She _had_ them! She'd positioned so many of her men (most of them, in fact) throughout the sewers, setting up perfect ambush points, just to corner and catch her father and his idiot hunter friends...and it would have worked, too!

...but then the Hylian had turned feral. Her men weren't equipped to deal with something like that. _She_ hadn't been equipped (or prepared) to handle a rampaging wolf monster in such close quarters. The claw marks in her side were glowing proof of that. The retreat had been hasty, messy, disorganised. Had she known, she would have abandoned the plan and figured out something else, but no... At least half her men were dead, either to the monster or lucky shots from her targets, another quarter unaccounted for, also presumed dead, and the rest...

She'd been forced to bolster her ranks with the City Watch and the nobles' private security forces, but they weren't nearly as firmly under her thumb as her _own_ men had been, and she could not share the true nature of her work with them either, for fear of them betraying her to their masters. Nothing like _her_ men, the ones she'd personally recruited and trained to act as her eyes, ears, and hands. So many of them now dead, because she'd failed to recognise a damn wolfos...

And still no closer to recapturing little Jerewin. The next council meeting was in a day and a half, and she had nothing to show for it. Disaster. It was all an utter disaster—all for the sake of her own triumphant smugness, when she realised she'd actually managed to lure Ascal into a trap, using the Sheikah's own journal against him. She glanced at the book in question, on the desk, glad she had gone back to his office, searched the place she had taken his little birds more thoroughly. She couldn't read most of the content, all of it written in some sort of code, but she had understood the map clearly enough, and dispatched the Watch to raid the safe houses continually as she identified them. With luck, she'd have caught at least a _few_ hunters today...

A knock at the door. "Enter," she said, her voice strained.

Avi stepped inside, looking apprehensive. "Mistress," he greeted.

"Avi," she greeted in return. "Is something the matter?"

His eyes kept straying to her bloodstained side. "Are you well, mistress?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Avi," she assured him, not removing her hand from it. It was still bleeding a little—the claws had gone _deep_. "It is healing nicely, do not worry. Was there something you wished to report?"

He cleared his throat. "I've...briefed the new arrivals from the Watch—I was assured these men and women would be...flexible in their loyalties to the Crown—no idea to what extent, though. I've dispatched them to search for the hunters, described them as dangerous criminals and terrorists."

"Good work, Avi," she praised him, perching on the edge of her desk. "Anything else?"

"May I speak freely, mistress?"

"You always do," she said with a slight nod. He had a bit of a mouth on him at times, which had sometimes nearly cost him his head, but luckily she found him more amusing than insulting most of the time...and he was fiercely competent at his job.

"I think we should leave," he said plainly. "We're losing control rapidly, and the hunters have only been here for a day—we can't handle them, a vampire, _and_ whatever that thing in the sewers was at the same time."

"The wolfos," Dehl corrected him, "is of no concern. That thing is likely dead already, either from its wounds or starvation. Transforming like that nearly kills them."

"Then the hunters and Ascal—"

"Will be dealt with in due time," she said, wincing when her side stung once more. Why wouldn't the damn thing close already? "We cannot abandon the city now, we're _so close_ , Avi. If we can kill them and recover Camdessus, there will be _nothing_ to stop us from ruling this kingdom. Imagine all the _good_ we can do!"

Good being a matter of perspective, of course.

"I'd rather we get out now, and try it again later, somewhere else," he replied, frowning. "Mistress, there have been too many surprises—who knows what else the hunters have hidden up their sleeves? We pull out now, leave them to handle the aftermath—"

"And what, just wait until my father tracks us down and exacts his revenge?" she asked. "Avi, do you _understand_ what I've done? I am trying to steal my father's territory from under him—a walker cannot ignore that. No, he won't stop, now. Not until one of us is dead. Even if we were to leave, he would find us eventually." She reached out and touched his cheek, as she had done before, felt the tension in his jaw. "There is no going back now, Avi. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Not for me, at least. If you wish to leave—"

"I'm not leaving your side, mistress," he said, stepping forward and gently moving her hand from her side, touching the still-bleeding wound. "When did you last feed?"

"Since I last saw Jerewin, but not much," she admitted, realising that was over a week ago. She rarely went that long without feeding.

Avi sighed and began undoing his cravat. "Go ahead," he said, exposing his neck to her.

"Are you sure, Avi?" she asked. "Last time—"

"We need you at full strength, mistress," he said firmly.

Dehl wondered why she ever contemplated sending him away.

* * *

Cold. He was so damn cold. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt frozen to the bone like this. His entire body ached, and even the simple act of opening his eyes proved to be a titanic struggle. It was dark, and the smell of blood and excrement was clogging his nose, almost making him retch. There was something in his mouth—it fell out when he groaned, trying to understand what the hell had just happened.

Hungry. Kill. Eat.

His stomach felt hollow, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. With gargantuan effort, he managed to run a freezing finger along the skin of his belly, which was taut, and covered in crusted...something. Blood? His eyes had slit shut on their own; he forced them open again, taking in the wooden beam hanging low, just above him.

Everything was so quiet, and yet so loud. The water dripping, the vermin squeaking and rustling about, the distant roar of water moving at great speed. It made his head ache, and all he wanted to do was to sink back into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness...but he couldn't. No. He had somewhere to be. Someone to see. But who? And where?

He groaned again, and tried to sit up. The beam wasn't just hanging low—it was lying on top of him. Snarling, he pushed it away. It barely budged, and it took nearly all the energy he could muster to slide out from beneath it. His body gave in, and his head fell back, landing on something soft, made of fabric. He turned his head...and nearly shrieked (would have, if his voice had worked). Dead eyes stared back him, a face frozen in horror. The man's throat, or what remained of it, was a torn mess, teeth marks the evidence of an animal attack. He could see his _spine_...

Now he did retch, and he did vomit, rolling to his hands and knees, purging his system of the bloody chunks of unidentifiable meat. He knew what they were. Refused to acknowledge it. Crawling away, he saw more bodies, all in similar conditions. Chunks ripped out, claw and teeth marks everywhere, every one of them suggesting a last minute spent in wretched horror and fear.

Link whimpered. He couldn't have. Refused to believe it. Climbing shakily to his feet, he gasped. Every single bone in his body hurt, every muscle protesting like they'd been ripped apart and put back together haphazardly. There were bits stuck between his teeth. He tried removing some with his tongue, revealing an unfamiliar texture, and triggering another round of vomiting.

Weak. Monster. Beast. Murderer.

He whimpered again. He had to leave. He had to go. He had to...to meet someone, right? They'd been looking for someone. Something. Where? Where was he?

The sewers? The roof had collapsed, but the beam had shielded him from the worst of the falling stones. He was barely able to squeeze through the broken doorway, the sword on his back—sword? From where?—clattering against the wall. He touched the handle—it felt familiar. Like it belonged there. That calmed him.

So hungry. Need to feed.

He threw a bleary look back at the torn bodies. No. Not that. Not them. Refuse to. Not a monster.

But I am.

Still freezing. His clothes were torn to pieces, all that remained a sliver of trousers around his waist. He bent down, carelessly taking a dead man's coat from his body, wrapping himself up in it. It barely helped. The cold was penetrating, like he couldn't produce his own heat anymore. He needed to leave, needed to go. Needed to meet...someone. Who? Someone important. Someone who was hurt? But where? Couldn't smell anything, all was blood and piss and shit.

A ladder. At the top, a heavy metal lid. He pushed at it with a growl, shoving it aside. Freezing wind buffeted at him as he climbed out of the hole, into freezing, wet snow. It was dark outside, the buildings and streets around him empty and dead. He knew this place. The Shades. He smiled. He knew where to go now. A place filled with warmth, and food, and friends.

Delirious, Link turned in the direction of the only place he could remember at the moment. A friend was there. He knew. He recalled. Safety. Determined, he took a shaky step, and then another.

* * *

Setting foot within the familiar walls of the place that had once employed him, Lor felt trepidation. He'd only been away for a few months, but it still felt like an eternity ago he'd last walked these halls, wearing considerably less than he was now. The Temple hadn't changed, but he certainly had. Before, he'd been relieved to have a place to sleep, a steady source of income, and while he hadn't enjoyed the work itself, at least he'd had some sort of purpose.

Now he could never imagine going back to this life. Giggling at client's bad jokes, pretending to care about their problems, entertaining them for the evening before taking them upstairs and... He shook his head. He was done with that now. Never again. He didn't care what sort of job he'd manage to scrounge up when this was all over—he would never be a whore again. Ard deserved better than that. _He_ deserved better than that.

We all do, he thought bitterly as he watched a drunken Hylian man and his chosen girl for the night slowly make their way upstairs to the rooms. He briefly wondered if his own room had been taken by someone else in his absence. He doubted the Madame would have anticipated his return. Not after the way he was removed from the premises in the first place.

A new boy was running the greeting counter, looking about the same age as himself. He gave Lor and his companions a nervous look, taking in their travel-worn clothes and many bags of equipment. "This isn't an inn," he said apologetically. "If you'd like, I can direct you to—"

"We know this isn't an inn," Lor said scathingly, perhaps a bit harsher than necessary, judging from the way the other boy flinched and turned his head down. This one hadn't grown a thick skin yet, didn't know how to handle sharp-tongued clients. Was I like that once, he wondered. "We're here to speak with Madame Yamin, you can tell her—"

"She's not here," the boy said hurriedly. "She left several months ago."

Lor paused. She was gone? Why? How? "Do you know why?" he asked, his prepared and carefully nurtured righteous anger fading quickly. He'd been looking forward to throwing his survival in her face.

"No one would tell me," the boy said, shaking his head, shifting on his stool. "Something to do with a previous employee, I think. A vote happened, apparently."

"Then, who's in charge of the Temple?" Lor asked, not daring to look back at the others for fear of losing all of his steam. He couldn't falter now. Just because the one advantage he'd had was just taken from him didn't mean all was lost.

"Madame René," the boy answered.

Lor tried to contain the smile that crept to his lips. René was in charge? That was even better! She'd always been unofficially running the place anyway, at least when it came to employee care and protection. More than once she'd protected Lor from rowdy or violent clients. She'd had the night off when the Blue Jackal had hired him, but he'd never blamed her. Besides, Sheik had taken care of that problem quite handily, albeit more messily than René would have.

"I'd like to speak with her," Lor said, forcing himself not to remember the events of _that_ night too vividly. While not nearly as bad as what he'd been put through at the hands of Ascal, it had still been... There was no word for it, really.

"She's quite busy tonight," the boy said, his tone once again apologetic. "She's not seeing anyone unless it's an emergency—"

"Tell her Lorasi is back," Lor said. "She _will_ see me."

The boy's eyes widened considerably. " _You're_ Lorasi?" he asked.

Lor paused. People had been talking about him? That was surprising. He certainly been friends with most of the girls and boys who worked at the Temple, but it was rare for the employees to talk about those who left, either for better work or simply relocating. It was...easier, that way. Emotional attachment to clients and colleagues was dangerous in this line of work. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's me," he said. "You've heard of me?"

"The others have been talking about you non-stop," the boy said, nodding excitedly. "Said you disappeared without a trace, just before Madame Yamin. Some said you'd escaped, or found someone rich to take care of you—"

"Long story," Lor said, cutting him off. Either of those options would have been better than the truth. "And not something I want to share in public. Can you please tell René I'm here? It's really important that I talk to her."

"Of course!" the boy said, jumping off his stool and stepping around the counter. He was wearing the usual ensemble of the Temple—loose, flowing shirt that exposed his slim frame whenever he moved, and a minimal skirt that left little to the imagination. Lor supposed it was too much to hope for René to change that particular aspect of this place—it was still a brothel, after all. That said, the place seemed quieter than usual. More...peaceful. The boy paused. "Actually, you can come with me. I'm sure she'll want to see you right away! Your friends can wait here or in the bar!"

Lor turned to Ard, Erd, and Kaura, giving them a shrug. "You heard him—I'll be right back."

Ard tried to step forward. "I'll come with—"

Lor stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine, Ard," he promised. "Please, stay here. We can't afford to get separated right now."

He didn't look happy about but, Ard nodded. "If something happens—"

"I'll come running back," Lor said, smiling. He turned back to the boy. "Lead the way," he said.

He knew the way to Yamin's—now René's—office, of course, but there was propriety to observe. After all, Lor wasn't an employee anymore. He was a guest. "What's your name?" he asked the boy, taking in the slight sway he put in his hips, letting his long, black hair swish back and forth as he walked. A hypnotising display, or meant to be, at least.

"Yari," he replied, smiling back at him. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Lor replied. He could easily have imagined the two of them being friends, back then. "New?" he asked.

"Started a few weeks ago," Yari answered. "Madame René doesn't let me serve clients yet—I just man the greeting desk and serve drinks."

Fresh meat, then. An abominable term. Lor was tempted to ask Yari to simply quit and run for the hills while he still could, but he knew his own circumstances well enough to know that Yari, like many others, simply did not have any other options. And, ultimately, it had been his own decision to begin working here. And no one could take _that_ from him. Not like the years that had put the original slave mark on Lor's cheek—Yari was clearly from Castle Town, his accent placing him in the poorer neighbourhoods.

Still, that René had chosen to hire someone so young, when she herself had continually criticised Yamin for it, was strange. Lor wanted to think the best of the woman he'd considered a friend, but if she had just continued business as usual...

Yari paused outside the door to the Madame's office, knocking on it. "Enter," a feminine voice replied from within.

"Please wait here," Yari said quietly before entering the office and closing the door behind him.

Lor heard the murmuring of their voices, and then a loud " _What?!_ " that was so familiar it almost made him smile. Pounding footsteps, and the door was ripped open, revealing the Madame herself. "Lorasi?" she asked, voice shaking as she reached out, stroking his non-bandaged cheek. "Is it really you?"

René was as beautiful as ever. Her deeply red hair was done up in a high bun that identified her as high-ranking in the place, dressed in a far simpler, but still attractive, manner than her employees—a slim-fitting black dress that accentuated her slender frame. No makeup, unlike Yamin, apart from the slightest touch of black eyeliner to bring out her eyes.

"Hey, René," he said, suddenly feeling a little uncertain. He'd thought she'd have changed a little, but apart from her outfit she looked the same, nothing but concern and...relief(?) on her face. "It's me." As if to prove it, he removed the bandage at his cheek, exposing his hunter tattoo. "I've changed the mark, but...yeah, it's me," he finished lamely.

She drew him into a tight hug, her hand stroking at the back of his neck, like she always did. It was familiar, it was comforting. He breathed in her perfume—rose-scented, just faint enough to entice rather than overpower. He closed his eyes and let his mind travel back just a little, to fetch the same comfort she'd always given him after a rough night.

"We thought we'd lost you," she whispered. "When Yamin said you'd been taken, we thought the worst."

He drew back and looked at her, seeing the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I won't lie," he said. "It was...bad, but I was rescued by...by some friends."

"The Sheikah?" René asked. "Haven't seen him around lately..."

"We've been away," Lor said, deciding not to reveal the existence of Eren and Nikal, just in case someone was listening. "Out of the kingdom. We've recently returned."

She sighed. "You've picked a bad time to come back, Lor," she said, gently guiding him into her office. "Yari, could you be a dear and fetch us some tea?" she asked the other boy, who nodded and left immediately.

"A bad time?" Lor asked. That was an understatement, given the fact that a fucking _vampire_ was running the city, but he didn't voice this.

"You haven't heard?" she asked, gesturing to the comfortable chairs by the fireplace. They sat down, and René took a moment to continue. "After the princess died, things have just been getting...worse. Food prices keep going up, people are disappearing, being killed. That cute boy at the stables—Tinn? He was murdered—throat slight and left to bleed out in the street."

Lor grimaced. Tinn had been the one to carry him after Eren and Nikal had rescued him from Ascal's clutches.

"That's partly why I'm back," he confessed. "I'm here with Sheik, and some of his...colleagues. I can't tell you much, but we're here to fix things."

She gave him a confused look. "Fix things?" she asked.

"Long story," he said. "And not one I dare tell you right now. Suffice to say, we're fighting some very bad people...and that's why I'm here now."

René's eyes flickered from him to the fire, and back. "You need a place to hide," she stated.

Lor nodded. "We do—Sheik had several safe houses set up throughout the city, but they've all been discovered. I barely managed to get my friends out from the last one before it was raided. I have them with me, they're waiting at the entrance."

"Yari mentioned you were with someone—a pair of twins and an older woman?"

"That's right."

"Who are they?"

"I can't tell you too much about the twins, but the woman is a doctor from Termina. Her name is Kaura."

He felt he could trust René with Kaura's name. After all, Kaura wasn't a hunter. She was, technically, neutral.

René was quiet for a long moment. "You're not doing anything illegal, are you?" she asked. "As much as I care about you, Lor, I can't give you shelter if you're going to bring us trouble—"

"It's not illegal," he said firmly. "If anything, it's the opposite. I swear to you, René, I wouldn't have come to you if I thought otherwise."

I _was_ going to use what Yamin did as leverage to force her to let us stay, he thought, but that plan fell through since you've taken over.

Another moment of silence as René thought carefully. Yari returned in the meantime with a tray of tea, which he placed on the small table between the chairs. "I have taken your friends to the upstairs lounge," he told Lor. "They looked tired and in need of some rest."

"Thank you," Lor said genuinely.

After Yari had gone once more, René leaned forward, staring into his eyes. "All right," she said. "You and your friends can stay. Are there more of you that I can expect come trickling in?"

"There are more of us," he admitted. "But I'm not sure if they'll find their way here. We got separated, and I don't know which of them know about the Temple."

"How many, all in all?"

"Eleven, altogether, including myself," Lor said after a quick mental count. He'd almost included Zelda and Tao.

René nodded. "I think we can accommodate that many," she said. "If you don't mind cramped quarters, that is. I've only got three spare rooms. One is your old room, and the other Sheik's." She sipped at her tea. "Can I expect trouble in the future?" she asked.

"Only the good kind," he assured her. "And it won't reach the Temple."

"Then I'll just have to be satisfied with that, won't I?" she said.

"Thank you, René," he said, bowing his head slightly, stiffening a little when he felt her hand run through his hair.

"I'm just glad you're safe," she said. "We tried to do what we always do—we tried to forget you, but...it was impossible. When Yamin told us what she'd done, that she'd let you get taken, we rose up against her; threw her out on her arse."

"And you were chosen as the new Madame," Lor said, nodding. "Couldn't have picked a better person for the job."

"You're sweet," she said. "I told myself I wasn't going to be like her, you know. Wasn't going to let the clients run as rampant as they once did. Hired some muscle to help, in fact. You'll see them tonight, I'm sure."

"Based on how mellow the atmosphere was when we came in, I'd say you're doing a good job so far," he told her, smiling.

"Oh, things are plenty rambunctious at night," she said, grinning back. "But in a way that makes it enjoyable for _everyone_ , not just the clients."

Lor nodded and drank his own tea. From what he could tell, things weren't perfect. Nothing could ever make a place like the Temple be more than what it was. But with René at the helm, he was certain it could only improve from here.

* * *

Ascal stared down at the slumbering Sheikah, wondering just how much of his story Sheik had managed to grasp before falling into a restless sleep, his body twitching as the infection continued to run its course. It was progressing very nicely, now, the black veins slowly fading to a light blue colour instead. Another examination of his eyes confirmed that the amber flecks still remained, but the colour remained primarily red.

Ascal was almost jealous of how hard it would be to tell his true nature from his eyes. Then again, being a Sheikah wasn't exactly something that was lauded and celebrated throughout the world, so perhaps Ascal was the luckier one here. After all, no one knew what the colour amber meant...

He sighed and leaned against the wall, rubbing his tired eyes. His shoulder injury was mostly healed now, but it had taken a lot longer than necessary. Turning someone was always an exhausting affair—it left you drained (haha) in a very similar way that starvation did. Ascal would have to feed again very soon, or he'd be a useless husk. So would Sheik, for that matter, but he had no idea how he was going to convince the boy to do so if he was anything like his grandmother.

He sighed again, letting himself slide to the floor. Physical exhaustion was one thing, but letting out all the memories of his time as Emory had been devastating to his mind as well. So many things he had forgotten, chosen to. His chest hurt, but it was not an injury. Not a physical one, at least. Rivea...his one and only friend. And he'd killed her.

He should never have returned to his quarters, should have left his things where they were. She'd never have tried to get him down the mountain then, would have survived. Would have been able to raise the girls...

He glanced towards Sheik again. There were plenty of Iana and her presumed husband's features in the boy's face, but that nose...that was Rivea's. He'd recognise that anywhere, now. He hadn't before, before he'd allowed the memories to surface once more.

Did he regret all he had done to this boy? All he'd put him through? He wasn't sure. Everything was...too muddled. Besides, he was Ascal now. Emory had been dead for years. He had nothing to do with that life anymore. But then...seeing that nose, and those eyes, so reminiscent of the girl who had come to him crying with skinned knees, had looked up at him with those big red orbs, called him uncle...

It was just instinct, wasn't it? Sheik was his kin now. Ascal had sired him. There was a bond there now, whether Ascal wanted it or not. He was responsible for this fledgling, this new walker that had yet to take his first steps into his new world. Sentiment from a long-past life didn't play into it at all. He touched the _kukri_ strapped to his thigh. Nope, no sentiment at all, he thought bitterly.

"That's _four_ generations of your family I've had to deal with now, little brother," he told the sleeping Sheik. "It's getting _very_ old."

He must have fallen asleep, then, because when he opened his eyes the temperature had fallen significantly, and the level of noise in the sewer had risen considerably. All the nasty little critters were coming out of hiding.

Sheik was still asleep. The veins were still there, but still fading. His jaw kept moving, his teeth grinding against each other with loud, creaky noises. Ascal crawled over to him, and boldly opened Sheik's mouth, sticking his thumb inside and running it along the roof. Behind his canines, Ascal felt two lumps, and Sheik whimpered when he gently poked at them.

"Coming along nicely, those," he told the slumbering boy, withdrawing his thumb. He was tired, but decided that it was time to move along. They couldn't stay down here forever, and Ascal was tired of the smell of this place lingering in every breath he took. "Time to leave, methinks," he said to no one in particular. "Just have to do one thing first."

He opened and closed the gate behind him, carefully making his way to the place where Sheik had been shot, where Link had embraced the beast within and unleashed it against their attackers. The sounds of that had long since faded, and the wolf had not make its way back here, feeding Ascal's suspicion that Link had either gotten himself killed by Dehl's men, or had escaped into the streets. Personally, he didn't care what happened to the boy, but Sheik would be quite upset, he imagined.

He found the Zukov where Link had dropped it, along with one of Sheik's spent pistols. He collected them both, taking a moment to marvel at the Zukov. Whoever had restored the thing had done a fine job, he decided, after winding up the mechanism and hearing it tick steadily within. It'd be a shame, leaving it behind. Rivea would have been outraged, her love of the outdated weapon never quite dying down, despite Emory's best attempts at convincing her the time it took to maintain it was outweighed its usefulness in the field.

He'd never used them himself, but Ascal supposed Sheik would want to keep it, in case Link was truly dead. A keepsake, something to remind him through the many years the Sheikah had ahead of him.

Returning to their hideout, Ascal donned his coat and dressed Sheik as well. The cold would never be much of a bother to either of them, but walking around shirtless in public was still a way to draw unwanted attention. Not that Ascal planned on being spotted. Castle Town and its narrow streets, the rooftops clustered tightly together, offered a way of travelling he'd never had much use for up until now, when he needed to stay out of sight.

He slung Sheik over his shoulder, ignoring the boy's mewling protests of discomfort, and went in search of a ladder. He found one not too far away, and he took a moment to check his equipment before climbing up, noting that Sheik weighed far less than he'd expected him too.

"Going to need fattening up," he murmured, pushing at the manhole, exposing himself to fresh air for the first time in hours. He took a relieved breath, happy to clear his nose of the offending scent of the city's runoff. It was night—and a cloudy one at that. The street they emerged into was deserted—little more than a service road for deliveries. The lamps had been lit, but Ascal did not stay still long enough for that matter. In seconds he'd cleared the lip of the manhole and disappeared among the houses on the opposite side of the street.

The Watch patrols were out in force, but they didn't matter. He ducked behind a wall, which was easier said than done while carrying an unconscious Sheikah on his shoulder, and found what he was looking for—a fire escape. Little more than a wooden ladder set into the walls of the building next to the bedroom windows, but exactly what he needed. It gave him the leverage necessary to scale the wall, and emerge onto the roof.

Up here, the lights of the city twinkled, and he could see the Royal Palace far off in the distance, nestled against the mountains. Far behind him, he saw the city gates. Judging by the distance to the eastern wall, Ascal calculated they were somewhere in the manufacturing district, not very far from the destroyed cistern, where they'd been ambushed in the first place. Clearly, Link had caused such a chaos among Dehl's men she'd been unable to continue her hunt for them.

"Ah, but what does she know of hunting, hm?" he asked Sheik, whose ears twitched when he heard his names, but did little else but bury his face into Ascal's coat. "Aw, such a sleepy little boy," he cooed, catching himself with horror.

What was the matter with him?

He shook his head and focused on the task at hand. Dehl had Sheik's journal, which meant she also had a map of all the safe houses. That meant the Thatcher street house had likely been compromised as well. For all he knew, Lorasi and the others were already dead.

"Need a place to hide," he muttered. Sheik still needed time to finish his turning, and then recover afterwards, and Ascal himself needed a meal and some rest. But where? Dehl would hardly be sitting on her haunches, waiting for them to show up again. Where would she fail to look?

The answer struck him soon after. The one place he hadn't mentioned to Dehl in his letters. The place that only he and Arthur knew about, on account of the rest of his men all being dead. It was delightfully ironic, he supposed, that he'd be returning there after swearing to never set foot in there again, on principle.

"Let's go, little brother," he said. "We have a Temple to visit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By my estimation, there are less than 10 chapters left of this story. Let's see how that pans out, eh?


	71. The Apology

Jerewin Camdessus was a confused man these days. Everything kept changing, and he was having a hard time keeping up with his changing circumstances, his life ever in flux since Ascal had left to...what was it, hunt down the Sheikah and his Hylian friend? He honestly couldn't remember the exact circumstances—it was like everything that had happened back then was shrouded in haze, the details lost in a blurry mess, leaving him with only the broader information that was of no help whatsoever.

Ascal had discovered that Princess Zelda was with them, and had decided to capture her. In the meantime, he'd sent Dehl to deal with the princess' body double, to ensure they had control of her no matter what happened. And then...then everything had gone wrong.

His head began to hurt whenever he thought too much about it. The only thing he could remember clearly was what happened after Eren and Nikal had paid him a visit in his bedroom. The kids had been captured, and Dehl had been doing unspeakable things to them in the basement. He'd wanted to remain passive, didn't want anything to do with this anymore. Perhaps Dehl would just leave if he left her to it, but no... He couldn't let her do it. So he'd gone downstairs, bribed the appropriate people, and waited until the moment was right.

He'd never intended to go with them, but standing there at the gate, with Eren pointing a pistol at him and threatening to kill him if he didn't follow...the choice hadn't been difficult. Even without the gun, he would have gone. The thought of returning to his mansion, where the damnable vampire waited, had been out of the question.

Safe house to safe house—they'd had to keep moving to make sure they weren't caught by Dehl's men or the Watch. One by one, the series of apartment buildings and basements they used were discovered, forcing them to move on to the next, and the next.

He helped bind Eren's wounds...or the ones he was willing to show Jerewin, at any rate. There was more, but the boy kept his lips firmly shut about them. Whatever Avi had done to him, it had been thorough. He still couldn't look at Eren's hand without his stomach giving a lurch. What kind of man was able to rip the fingernails from a boy's hand without a second thought?

Unwrap, clean and disinfect, re-wrap. It became a routine—Jerewin helped Eren, while Nikal went out to scout and scrounge for supplies they needed. The first few times had been tense, and few words were exchanged other than Eren's instructions. After a few days of this, it got a little better—more relaxed. It seemed even Eren was not someone who held a grudge, and as much as Jerewin dreaded what would happen next, no matter what it was, he felt he wasn't utterly alone, at least.

Nikal, on the other hand, had taken longer. In fact, he'd still been working on easing the tension between them until now. He was quite sure she still despised him, but at least they'd managed to remain civil.

More civil than the Gerudo woman who currently had him at gunpoint, at least. At least her face was set in a resigned attempt at a smile, at least, rather than a hateful snarl.

"Your target?" he asked.

"Affirmative," she said, wincing. "You're the entire reason we're here—well, you and the princess, of course."

"The princess?" he asked. "She's alive?"

Did that mean Ascal had failed? Had he been killed? Surely not? Ascal was the strongest being he knew—the stories he'd told of his past life...surely he would not fall to the likes of this woman? Or the Sheikah, perhaps?

"Don't worry, my lord," she said with a teasing edge to her voice. "Your pet vampire's with us, too, as much as I hate to say it."

His heart, which had begun to beat wildly at the prospect of Ascal being dead, stilled immediately, and he sighed. "That's...good to hear. Is he...is he your prisoner, or...?"

"Reluctant ally, more like," Ayla said, scowling. "I was all for killing him and leaving to rot in his cell, but I was overruled. Turns out we'll need him to kill the _other_ vampire that you've been working with. Dehl, right?"

"Yes, that's her," he replied, letting his hands drop from over his head when it was clear the woman wasn't about to shoot him. "Do you _have_ to point that at me?" he asked.

"Gotta make sure you don't do a runner," she said, wincing when Eren began binding her wound. It was still bleeding freely, and Jerewin was pretty sure she needed professional medical attention. "We need you alive, but I'm not above shooting you in the leg to make sure you stay put."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, shaking his head. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not staying with these two for the fun of it."

"Hey, we've had _some_ fun," Eren protested.

Jerewin's mouth snapped shut, and he glared at the boy. "Glad you found me slipping on the ice and hitting my head so amusing," he said, to which Eren simply laughed.

"It was hilarious," he confirmed.

He supposed he earned that. Thinking back, his actions of late had been anything but admirable. To think of it, the past few years had been somewhat...unfortunate. The fact that he couldn't remember half of it was quite worrying, now that he really thought about it. Everything was so unclear, his own thoughts at the time a mystery to him.

The slavers, for example. He remembered hearing about the idea of indentured servitude at a university lecture, finding it quite fascinating and possibly a solution to overpopulation and a way to ensure the idle segments of the population were bringing in some sort of income. But to escalate that to pure slavery? To hire bandits to raid villages, steal their children, and sell them on the southern markets? That was...how had he possibly thought that was a good idea, much less come up with it? That was something his...his _father_ would have come up with, which was the direct opposite of what Jerewin wanted. His father's approval meant nothing.

Really, the only person whose approval he wanted was Ascal's...

At the thought of his guardian and teacher smiling at him, telling him he had done well, his heart sped up a little again, but this time in a pleasant way. An exciting way.

"Still," Ayla said, breaking into his train of thought, "I'm still not taking the chance until the girl gets back and can keep an eye on you."

"You don't like me very much, do you?" he asked, seeing the crease between her eyebrows, the way her jaw clenched whenever he moved.

"I don't," she confirmed. "In fact, I hate you. Not quite as much as I hate Ascal, but you're up there. I've lost my home, thanks to you. I've lost friends. The only reason I haven't shot you yet is because, as I said, we need you alive."

"What exactly is your plan?" Jerewin folded his arms, regarding her with a frown. Knowing he wasn't going to get shot right this minute helped him calm and focus a little. "Apart from killing Dehl, I mean?"

"Well, for one thing, you're going to make the announcement that Princess Zelda is alive, and that she will be taking her rightful place on the throne once more. After that...well, it depends on just how vengeful the princess is, doesn't it? Frankly, I'm hoping for an execution, but she's a little soft so I wouldn't bet on it."

"You can do it," he said quickly, before he could stop himself.

"Huh?" she raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You can...you can execute me," he said, his cheeks burning a little. "As long as you let Ascal go. He did all this on my orders, and—"

"Kid, don't flatter yourself," she said, chuckling. "Half the things Ascal did was because he's an utter monster, literally _and_ figuratively. Besides, he's already bargained for _your_ life, so whatever happens, his head _will_ be on the chopping block...but hey, if you're volunteering to join him..."

"I will speak to the princess about it," he said weakly, trying not to imagine Ascal being beheaded and...whatever one did to truly kill a vampire. "Convince her—"

"You won't be allowed anywhere _near_ the princess once we're done here," she said firmly. "If you're lucky, she'll let you remain in Hyrule, confined to your mansion. If not, she'll exile you. This will all be decided once our job is finished, though, so you just stay focused on preparing a speech for her re-crowning."

The door opened, and Nikal came inside. Her clothes were soaking wet from the snow-slush, and a few splotches of red could be seen from where she'd touched the dead man. She observed the tense atmosphere, and the gun levelled at Jerewin.

"Guess you figured out who he is, then?" she asked drily.

"Pretty much," Ayla replied, wincing again as Eren tied off the bandage as best he could. "Turns out this is the bastard at the top—"

"He _was_ at the top, but the vampire took over pretty much right after she arrived," Nikal corrected. "He's been her pet afterwards."

He bristled at being called a pet...but then, that was pretty much the truth, wasn't it? Her puppet and pet, obeying her every beck and call, because he wasn't strong enough to fight her. A coward. "I still helped you escape," he mumbled.

"That is true," Nikal said, nodding. "So I think he's earned the right to _not_ have a gun pointed at him," she said pointedly to Ayla.

"Can't have him run—"

"He doesn't have _any_ friends left in the city," Nikal deadpanned. "Where would he go?"

Ayla hesitated, but then let the gun drop. She didn't holster it, but at least it wasn't aimed at his head anymore. "The body?" she asked Nikal.

"Gone," she replied. "I won't say where. It'll take a while for the Watch to find it, to say the least."

"Good enough for me," the Gerudo said. "Now, I suggest you pack your stuff and get ready to move."

"We're going?" Eren asked. "Where?"

"Sheik always had stories about the place he was staying at, whenever he visited. Some sort of inn? He called it the Temple, or something like that. Figured we'd try heading for that, see if the others manage to stumble their way there, too, since every other safe house is gone." Nikal snorted. Ayla narrowed her eyes at her. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"The boss called it an inn?" she asked. "The Temple is a brothel."

Ayla's eyes widened. "A what?" she asked with a quiet voice.

"A brothel," Nikal repeated slowly. "The boss has a permanent room there."

"My sweet, precious little brother lives...in a whorehouse?" Ayla wailed, face twisting into inconsolable grief.

Jerewin wondered if he'd hadn't been better off with Dehl.

* * *

"I smell a trap," Kafei muttered under his breath.

"What gave it away?" Tira whispered, rolling her eyes. "The suspiciously empty street outside the safe house, or the distinct sound of a large group of people trying to keep quiet inside?"

"That," Kafei said, "coupled with the pissing watchman in the alley."

Tira adjusted her position, nodding. "Huh, I missed that one."

"I have a feeling Elenwe hasn't," the Sheikah murmured. "She's behind that bin."

Tira said a silent prayer for the watchman, hoping he wasn't stupid enough to look around before heading back inside. "That's all of them compromised, then," she whispered. Kafei nodded. "Where do you think they've gone?"

"Ayla was with them," Kafei said. "She'll have gotten them out safely. Exactly where, I'm not sure. I have an inkling, though, though I'm sort of hoping it's not there."

"How come?"

"Because it means that my cousin's stories about living in a house of negotiable affection are true, and I was hoping he'd preserved his innocence for longer than that," he said, offering her a sad expression.

"Kaf," she said, thumping his shoulder with her own. "Sheik was _never_ innocent."

"Let me have my illusions, please," he said, huffing. He breathed out when the watchman finished draining himself and went back inside the Thatcher Street safe house, unknowingly giving away the entire ambush they'd surely set up. On cue, Elenwe appeared from behind the bins and quickly made her way back to their position behind a decorative stone wall by the florist's shop on the other side of the street.

The Gerudo had a look of utter distaste on her face as she crouched down next to them. "Someone had asparagus for lunch," she muttered with a fake gag. "And desperately needs to see a doctor. A member is _not_ supposed to be that colour, or have those weird little—"

"Thanks, I do not need to know what his member looked like," Kafei said, grimacing. "You see his friends?"

"Lingering on the stairs, just waiting for one of us to step inside," she said, nodding. "No sign of the others."

"We're choosing to believe they got away in time," Tira said. "And Kafei wants to go to a brothel."

Elenwe glanced at her husband, offering him a wry grin. "Oh, so I'm not good enough for you anymore, am I?" she asked, poking at his cheek, which was rapidly turning red. "Or are you just interested in adding a little spice? Hell, I'm all for it as long as she's cute. Or _he_ , for that matter."

"For fuck's sake," Kafei whimpered, resting his forehead on the cold stone in front of him. "It's where Sheik's been living for the past few years," he explained. "Figured everyone would make their way back there if we got separated like this."

"Oh, right," Elenwe said, grinning. "So the bedroom stuff is just a bonus, then?"

He didn't say anything—she'd find a way to use it against him no matter how he tried to explain it.

"Wow, I've never seen him that red before," Tira said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

"A new personal best," Elenwe said, smugly proud of herself.

Why had he decided to form a party with these two again? He pushed away from the wall, running a hand through his hair before clearing his throat. "Look, you can mock me all you like later, when we're safe," he hissed. "Now, unless you want to stay here and get caught by the Watch, let's get going. We need find some place called the Shades—it's apparently the bad part of town."

"I know where that is," Tira said. "Do you know what the place is called?"

"The Temple of something something," Kafei answered.

"Never heard of it, but I'm sure we'll find it," Tira said, getting her bearings before standing up. "Follow me."

Kafei made to do just that, but Elenwe's hand at his neck stopped him. "By the way husband," she whispered, "if you feel things are slowing down in the marital bed, just let me know. I've got _plenty_ of ideas to speed things along." Her hand was replaced by her lips as she spoke, moist, hot air ghosting over his skin in a way that made him shiver.

"And if I say no to those?" he asked, knowing he was pushing his luck.

"Then I'll just have to find a cutie at the Temple, won't I?" she said teasingly, smacking his rump before following Tira.

I married a fiend, Kafei thought.

It was a good thing he loved her so much.

* * *

Ascal frowned. Based on his last visit, he'd expected the Temple to be bustling with activity, both inside and out, but the building was suspiciously quiet. The drapes were drawn in front of the windows, and the shutters closed. There were lights in the windows, but not the customary red ones, meaning...what? Had the place been shut down while he'd been gone? Or closed for the night, perhaps? That'd be strange—he'd never heard of one of these places shutting down for a single night—the amount of money lost that way was simply too high.

Sheik shifted in his arms, moaning quietly. He was still grinding his teeth, the pain of his developing fangs likely penetrating even the deepness of his sleep. Ascal shivered at the thought—there was much he'd managed to force himself to forget about his own turning, but the sensation of new teeth growing within his skull would forever stay with him. The bone didn't yield so easily, and the teeth had to push their way through it. The first time they flicked into place had also been horrible, when they came bursting through bone and gums...some things just stay with you forever.

He did not envy what Sheik was going to go through.

Not that he cared about the boy, because he didn't. Not at all.

He observed the brothel for another fifteen minutes, watching people and Watch patrols passing the place by with no one attempting to enter, finally concluding that he wasn't going to see anything significant...and he had to find a place to sequester the turning vampire in his arms before it was too late. He had no idea when Sheik would wake, but he would definitely prove troublesome when he did. If not for the questions he would surely field at Ascal (which he _knew_ would be coming at some point), then for the sheer chaos of a newly born vampire's panic.

He adjusted his hold on Sheik, made sure the street was empty, and crossed it, making sure to stick to the darkest shadows to avoid someone spotting him. It'd look mighty suspicious, carrying a young boy like this into a brothel.

He kicked the front door with the toe of his boot in an imitation of a knock. It took a long moment, but then a small slit in the door opened, and someone on the inside spoke, "We're closed for the night. Come back tomorrow."

"Do I look like a client to you?" Ascal asked mildly, lifting Sheik a little to show the person on the inside. "This is Sheik. He lives here. I'm also here with a former employee if this establishment, one Lorasi...no idea if he has a last name. Would you kindly let us in?"

"Look, friend, I don't know what you think you're doing, but—"the man inside began, but then he paused as another voice spoke to him quietly. The voice was young, unlike the man's. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Fine..." He cleared his throat and addressed Ascal again. "All right, you can come in, but any funny business and you're out."

"No funny business from me, I can assure you," Ascal said, displaying his best smile.

"Hmph," the man grunted and closed the slit, followed by the sounds of many locks being opened before the door swung open, granting him entrance. Ascal walked inside, nodding to the enormous, muscle-bound gentleman who had been on the other side. It seemed the Madame had decided to hire some proper muscle to protect her employees. Wise decision, in Ascal's opinion. It had been far too easy to take Lorasi.

The owner of the second voice, a young, black-haired boy around Sheik's age was waiting just beyond the door, his hands wringing themselves at the sight of the unconscious Sheik in his arms. "A-Are you Ascal?" he asked nervously.

"I am," Ascal said, slightly puzzled. He'd made sure not to use that name the last time he'd been here, so who could have...? Shrugging the thought away, he gave the boy a roguish smile, and said, "And who might you be, my dear?"

"Y-Yari," the boy replied, blushing a little.

Ah, I still have it, Ascal thought to himself.

"A pleasure, Yari. I take it someone else has arrived here ahead of us, and warned you of us?" Ascal asked. That'd be why the Temple was closed, then. Whichever of the hunters had arrived first had told the Madame who they were and what they were here for, and she'd closed the place down to ensure they weren't spotted by a loose-lipped client. Or so he hoped.

"Yes," Yari replied with a nod. "Please, follow me. I will take you to them."

Had this been a trap, Yari would have been a nervous wreck. Ascal could tell he was the sort who lost his cool under pressure, and while Yari's heart was thumping a little faster and louder than normal, he knew it was for a different reason entirely—Ascal's winning smile. One of the few things he'd retained from Emory. It was a smile that had gotten him more than one night of fun in a bed. Couple it with his deep voice, and it made most people go a little weak at the knees. He wondered if the boy was available for hire—he could certainly use a distraction from the utter mess of a day this had been. The way he was dressed suggested he was off-duty, wearing clothes meant for comfort rather than the uniform he'd seen last time, but...

He shook his head. Not the time to consider earthly pleasures. Besides, he was too weak to perform right now anyways. Sheik's turning, coupled with their escape across the rooftops, had taken a lot more than usual out of him.

Yari led them up two sets of stairs and down a corridor, stopping outside a door Ascal recognised immediately. Yari knocked, and a voice within asked, "Who's there?"

"It's Yari," the boy replied. "Two of your friends have arrived—one of them is hurt."

"Which friend?" the voice asked, and Ascal recognised it. One of the strange, white-haired twins.

"Ascal," Yari replied, and there was a brief curse from the other side of the door that made the vampire grin a little. It was good to know his presence was still such a foul thing, apparently. The door opened, and Yari beckoned him inside. "I will keep watch for the others," he informed Ascal before heading back downstairs, throwing another curious glance at the slumbering Sheik and Ascal himself as he went. Another smile from Ascal, and the boy blushed again. Precious.

"Get in," Erd, the one who'd lost his eye in the siege said with a scowl, eyeing Sheik. "What happened?"

Ascal hesitated in the opening, noticing a very familiar scent in the air. His eyes quickly scanned the room, spotting the other twin, Lorasi, and the doctor from Termina, Kaura, crowded around a bed...and sticking out from between them, a pair of familiar, utterly normal legs and feet.

So, he thought, the wolf made it after all.

He was actually impressed at that. It was rare for a wolfos to survive going feral—little to no self-control coupled with danger and the extreme amount of stress it put on their body ensuring only the strongest made it. It was even _rarer_ for one to be able to turn back into its original shape. Ascal had seen perhaps three individuals able to do so—including Link. It meant they possessed an incredible amount of strength, mental and physical, to wrestle the beast back into its place. He almost grinned. Link was fare more interesting than someone like him had a right to be.

Erd was already looking over the unconscious Sheik, noting the blue veins, paling skin, and rapid breaths.

"There was an...incident," Ascal explained, drawing the attention of the other three. Lorasi in particular looked anguished at the sight of the Sheikah, mouth opening and closing. "An ambush. Dehl knew we were coming. Little brother here got himself shot."

"This looks like some sort of poisoning," Erd noted, guiding Ascal and his burden towards the bed. "What—"

"It's from me," Ascal said, putting Sheik down on the bed next to Link, taking a moment to study the Hylian.

He was covered in bruises and welts, signs of his body having undergone massive changes to its muscular and skeletal structure shortly before. They looked to be healing quickly, meaning the wolfos' natural ability to shrug off non-fatal injuries was still holding strong. Like Sheik, Link's sleep appeared to be troubled, a tight-knit expression on his face.

"What do you mean, it's from you?" Erd asked, giving him a dubious look. His brother, Ard, had taken up position in front of Lorasi, as if to protect him from the vampire. Kaura hadn't spared him a single glance so far, her attention focused solely the two in the bed. She was examining Sheik now, looking him over with a critical eye, looking displeased.

"Looks more like an infection, or blood poisoning," she noted. "With the veins."

"Yes, and yes," Ascal said mildly in agreement. "People tend to look like that when they're turning into vampires."

There was a moment in which every eye in the room landed on Ascal, complete silence reigning as every mind briefly shut down from the shock, and then everyone spoke at once. It was an oddly beautiful symphony of one word:

" _What?!_ "

Same inflection and everything. Ascal enjoyed such moments. He nodded. "You heard me," he said. "Little brother got himself shot in the gut, and was bleeding out quickly. There was no time to get him to a doctor, and even then there would have been nothing to do—as I'm sure the good doctor here can confirm."

Kaura looked uncomfortable before nodding. "Stomach wounds _are_ difficult to deal with," she said.

"Indeed, so I was left with a choice: I could leave him to die, or I could turn him. I even asked him what he wanted, and he gave his consent."

Well, that part was a bit dubious. He'd only asked if Sheik wanted to die or not, not if he actually _wanted_ to become a vampire, but invoking vagueness and ambiguity was his bread and butter where people were concerned.

"I don't believe you," Lorasi said loudly. "Sheik would never have agreed to become...become a-a—"

"Monster?" Ascal supplied, giving the boy a calm look. "I can assure you, he did. And if he hadn't, he'd be dead by now. What would you have preferred? That I leave him dead down there, in the sewers, to be feasted upon by hungry rats?"

"No, but you could have found another way—"

"There was no other way," Ascal said. "If I hadn't turned him, he would have been dead a minute later. It was literally in the nick of time." He glanced down at Sheik again, noting that he was as pale as Link right now. A matching pair of beasts, he thought. "He's turning, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. I fail to see the issue—you've embraced your lupine friend with no trouble from what I can tell."

"That's...different," Lorasi said, looking down at the floor, as if ashamed. "Link's just like a big dog, but..."

"Sheik is just a bloodsucking leech now, hm?" Ascal supplied once more, satisfied to see he struck gold when Lorasi flinched. Ard placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Ard glared at Ascal. "I'm not the one who just abandoned a friend because of a slightly major change to his physiology," he told the twin, raising his hands.

"Slightly major," Kaura muttered under her breath. "Is this normal?" she asked, gesturing to the veins.

"It is," he confirmed. "So is his low temperature, as well as the sweat. His body is still fighting the infection, but it has already lost. If you check the roof of his mouth, you will find a pair of fangs growing within his skull. That'll cause him a lot of discomfort until he uses them for the first time."

"And to think I considered the world a fairly normal place before I met this one," the doctor said with a weary tone. "Is there anything I can do to ease his suffering?" she asked.

"Not really," Ascal answered. "Luckily, it's only temporary. He should be waking in a few hours, already stronger than before. He will need a room of his own—his first awakening will be quite...violent."

"We have another room across the hall," she said. "We can put him in there when the time comes."

"When did Wolfy make it here?" Ascal asked, satisfied that he'd gotten his kin to safety for the time being.

"Hour, hour and a half," Erd answered, glancing worriedly at his brother as Ard also left the room, presumably in search of Lorasi. "He was completely out of it, couldn't remember any of us, only that he _lived here_. It's a good thing the Madame decided to fetch Lorasi and ask him if he knew Link before calling the Watch or just sending him away."

"Hm, I see," Ascal said, slinging the Zukov off his shoulder and placing it by the pile of supplies and equipment the group had seemingly managed to take with them from the safe house. "I take it the Thatcher house has been discovered?"

"Lor barely managed to warn us in time. Had to pack up in a hurry—we got out minutes before the Watch came bearing down on the place. Ayla caused some sort of distraction, apparently."

Ascal had noticed a distinct lack of any hunters in the room, save for the two unconscious ones on the bed. Had they all gotten caught, perhaps? That'd be a shame—Ascal needed fighters, not doctors or scientists. "And she didn't make it back?"

"We're still waiting."

"Ah..."

"What happened out there?" Erd asked. "And why do you all smell like you've been bathing in a sewer?"

"Aha, well, that is because we kind of, sort of, did?" Ascal said, grinning embarrassedly. "Little brother wanted to search for his little spies in the destroyed cistern, following a clue he found in his office. Unfortunately, the clue was fake, placed there by Dehl, and she was waiting for us—arranged an impressive ambush. Then little brother got shot, Wolfy there went all...well, wolfy, and we got separated." He examined Link again, still impressed with this one's strength. He had clearly underestimated the Hylian. "I thought him long dead, given the stress this sort of transformation puts on the body."

"Anything I should know?" Kaura asked.

"Just that he will be very, _very_ hungry when he wakes up," Ascal said, shrugging. "Lots of energy lost, like that. He might also not be all there, in the head," he added, tapping his temple. "Hard to tell, with these creatures. Some are dumb as doorknobs, others frighteningly intelligent. For some, the call is too difficult to resist."

"So he might have gone insane from this?" she asked, feeling the Hylian's forehead. "He's cold..."

"Possibly," Ascal concurred. "Might want to be careful around him, just in case."

Erd was writing everything down as they spoke, surely making notes for posterity, no matter what happened. "This is all new information we did not possess at the Studio," he said when Ascal looked at him. "It needs to be shared with the other hunters everywhere."

Ascal didn't reply. There was no need to. He rolled his shoulders, felt the crack in the injured one. "I need a bath," he said after catching a whiff of himself. "Little brother shouldn't be waking up for another few hours, as I said. I believe I'll take the opportunity to refresh myself. Excuse me." The last thing he heard as he left the room was Erd whispering.

"Why does he keep calling Sheik _little brother_?"

In truth, Ascal wasn't entirely sure himself. At first it had been a co-opt of what the Gerudo hunter, Ayla, had called him, just to annoy her, but now...it almost felt a little natural to call Sheik that. Not affection. Absolutely not. Just...from a sire to his kin.

Lorasi and Ard were out in the hall, having a heated discussion. Or, rather Lorasi was, while Ard appeared to be listening. They both froze, however, when Ascal appeared once more. A thought struck the vampire, and he wished it hadn't. He looked at Ard with gentle eyes. "May I have a word with him alone?" he asked.

"No," Ard said, once again standing in front of Lorasi like a living shield. Cute, really. Ascal could crush Ard's skull with his bare hands, but it was still cute that he thought he could stop him.

"Please?" Ascal asked in a simpering tone, almost disgusted with himself. "I promise I shan't touch him. I merely wish to speak with him."

"Go back inside, Ard," Lorasi said. "I'll be right back."

"Two minutes," Ard grunted before stomping back inside the room, giving Ascal possibly the most murderous look he'd ever received from a mortal.

"What do you want?" Lorasi asked, venom in his voice, arms crossed and glaring up at him.

"I believe I owe you an apology," Ascal said calmly.

That was clearly not something the human had expected, and his eyes widened quite a bit before narrowing again with suspicion. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"I said I owe you an apo—"

"Yes, I heard you the first time," Lorasi spat. "What the hell is it supposed to _mean_?"

Ascal frowned. "And here I thought that was a sentence free of ambiguity," he said. "It has occurred to me that I have been a little... _overzealous_ in my task. You were, admittedly, a mostly innocent bystander, and got dragged into it. You were instrumental to me finding out where they were heading, of course, but still..." He struggled a little with the words. Rivea would have wanted this, he knew. "I...am sorry."

Lorasi stood completely still for almost a full minute before a deep chuckle that turned into a full-on laugh erupted from his mouth. It turned hysterical soon after, and he had to hold himself up by leaning against the wall, tears pouring from his eyes. Ascal shifted uncomfortably. He'd been alive for a long time and had seen many strange things...but surely this was not an appropriate reaction to a stilted yet genuine apology?

"Was there something funny about what I said?" he asked once Lorasi began calming down.

"No," the human said, chuckling. "But there's just something absurd about being apologised to by a vampire, the same vampire who had me beaten and raped just for a little bit of information...and that you somehow think an _apology_ is going to make things all right, like they didn't happen!" He fixed Ascal with a look of pure hatred. "You made my life a living hell, _leech,_ " he seethed. "You've destroyed _all_ our lives—if you think you're walking away from this still breathing, you're in for a big surprise."

Ascal nodded slowly. "I have no delusions that I will somehow be forgiven for my crimes at the end of this," he said. "I fully expect to die at some point in the near future. Nevertheless, this still needed to be said."

"Well, I don't accept your apology, no matter how _heartfelt_ it is," Lorasi said through clenched teeth, his hands flexing like all he wanted to do was to have a go at the vampire. Bad idea, really, but it would have been interesting to see.

Now it was Ascal's turn to chuckle. "Oh, my dear Lorasi, don't you know? Vampires don't _have_ hearts. Especially not me. I spent decades hunting and killing my own kind—do you really think I have any capability to feel left?"

Plenty, he told himself. But they don't need to know that.

"So Sheik will be just like you when he wakes up, then?" Lorasi asked bitterly. "A bloodsucking monster?"

Ascal shook his head. "What kind of person Sheik will be when he wakes up is entirely up to him," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?" Ascal said, winking. "Now, could you be a dear and show me to the baths? And find out if that Yari boy is available for hire? I could use an... _attendant_."

The range of expletives that issued forth from the young human at that request almost had Ascal guffawing with laughter. He'd only added it for his amusement—Yari was quite safe from him.

"Never mind," he said when Lorasi stepped closer, seemingly ready to take a swing at him, disengaging by slowly backing away. "I will find the baths myself. And don't worry about Yari—he's a little young for me."

"Go to hell, leech," Lorasi snarled and stomped back to the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ascal went downstairs and found the boy in question lounging behind the greeting desk, having a friendly conversation with the door guard. He blushed a little when Ascal flashed his usual smile at him. "I am looking for the baths," he said. "Could you show me the way?"

"This way," Yari said, leading him towards the back of the building, to the section where the clients usually didn't have access. "Will you be n-needing assistance, sir?" he asked outside the door leading to the baths.

Ascal vaguely contemplated requesting Yari's assistance in getting clean, but decided he'd pissed off Lorasi enough for one evening, and shook his head. "I think I'll be fine on my own," he said sweetly. "Though I would appreciate a clean shirt and a pair of trousers that _haven't_ been in close contact with the city sewers."

"I'll see what I can find," Yari said, smiling up at him.

"My thanks, dear," Ascal replied, watching the boy tearing down the hall, eager to please.

He frowned as he headed inside the baths and began to undress. He was slipping, he knew. Emory's mannerisms and thought patterns were returning faster than he'd anticipated, and he found himself unable to lock them away firmly enough. It was like the dam had burst, and more and more memories he'd thought long gone were returning.

Ascal would have thought Yari beneath him. Wouldn't have graced the boy with the sorts of smiles and words he had. Ascal would have been polite, but nothing more. Ascal _certainly_ wouldn't have apologised to Lorasi for what he'd done. Ascal didn't _apologise_ , because Ascal had nothing to apologise _for_. Period.

"I bet you're loving this, Rama," he said, offering a curse to the Sheikah. "You miserable bastard. I hope you died of something embarrassing." He chuckled. "I killed your wife, your daughter, destroyed your home, and turned your grandson, Rama—who's laughing now?"

No one was laughing, really, because this situation was so utterly fucked beyond all hope of repair.

All because he'd refused to leave a necklace behind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems unlocking his memories is affecting Ascal more than he'd anticipated...


	72. The Change

His mouth felt like it was on fire. His whole body was a mix and match of various pains and aches, but it was his mouth that felt the worst. Gingerly, he touched his tongue to the roof of it, where he felt two bumps in the gums, just behind his canines. The thought of what lay beneath the flesh made his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch, and he knew then that his dreams had been anything but; they were real.

The realisation set him off. His eyes flew open, and his breathing came in short, raspy gasps. He wasn't in the sewers anymore, but that only made it worse—where the hell _was_ he?! He tried to sit up, but his hands and legs had been bound to the bed he was lying on—tough rope gnawing at his wrists and ankles, creaking as he pulled and tore at his bonds.

_Why am I tied down?!_ he thought, baring his teeth in a snarl as he continued to struggle...until a cool hand landed on his forehead, a blurry, dark shape appearing over him.

"Easy," the voice spoke soothingly. "Easy...you're safe, there is nothing to worry about."

The effect was almost immediate. Sheik stilled, but his heart wouldn't quiet down, and the ropes were uncomfortable, scratching his skin. He whimpered, tried half-heartedly to pull.

"Shh," the voice cooed. "You're all right, little brother. You're all right."

"Why am I tied down?" he asked, voice rough and scratchy.

"It's for your own safety," the voice said. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "And that of everyone else in the building. First awakenings can be...violent. But you are showing remarkable restraint and self-control...such a good boy."

The words washed over him like a soothing wave, and his chest warmed a little at the praise. He fell back, head resting on the cold, wet pillow. "Can you untie me?" he asked, closing his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He couldn't afford the panic—not if what he had dreamt was really true. He tried not to think about it too much—if he could put it off, he wouldn't have to confront it, and then he wouldn't have to realise that he was...had become...

"Not quite yet," the voice spoke, another hand joining the first to massage at his temples, soothing the ache that had settled there. "Let's get you calmed down completely first. Do you have any questions for me?"

"How long was I out?" Sheik asked.

"Half a day, I'd say," the voice said. "It's four in the morning right now."

_That long?!_ He tried sitting up again, but one of the hands moved and pressed down on his chest, the voice humming.

"Do not worry—as I said, you're quite safe."

"Where are we?"

"The Temple, your old room," the voice replied, almost sounding amused. "I thought familiar surroundings would help, but if you cannot even recognise them...hm, no matter. You really ought to stop grinding your teeth—it's not healthy." The hand touched his jaw, squeezing lightly to get him to stop rubbing his teeth together. "I know your mouth hurts, and it will continue to do so until your first feeding. I'd suggest getting that over with as soon as possible, but knowing you, and myself, for that matter...well, better get used to it."

"Feeding?" Sheik could barely focus on the words, the reality of the situation nebulous and difficult to grasp. Surely it had to be a dream, a nightmare. It couldn't be real. He refused to believe it!

"That's right," the voice answered. "Your first bloodletting. You don't recognise it yet, but your body is craving it. Soon, it'll turn into a terrible hunger, the sort that gnaws at your insides, a million mouths eating away at your stomach. You've been through an exhausting ordeal—you need sustenance, energy."

The identity of the voice's owner clicked into place, and Sheik opened his eyes a crack, glaring up at Ascal as his face came into a slightly blurry view. "I don't want it," he rasped.

Ascal chuckled, lightly touching Sheik's face in various places, his cool skin bringing a worryingly pleasant sensation wherever he lingered, settling the fire beneath.

"Feels like you're burning on the inside, doesn't it?" Ascal asked. "That's the hunger, the lust for blood. It'll only get stronger, until your stomach aches, and you feel like a walking furnace. The only thing that will settle it is the sanguine nectar, as my sire called it. Pompous, if you ask me, but Gideon was nothing if not given to theatrics."

It should have been annoying, the endless stream of words, half of them utterly meaningless, that spewed forth from Ascal's mouth, but Sheik only found them comforting now. A distraction from the discomfort his body was throwing at him in waves.

"Why the Temple?" Sheik asked as Ascal's hands massaged his temple once more. Why was the vampire being so kind to him, all of a sudden? It was like he almost _cared_ about Sheik's wellbeing and comfort, which was as far from the mannerisms of the monster he'd come to know as possible.

"Everywhere else was compromised," Ascal said. "I never shared this location with Dehl, so I figured this would be our best bet. Turns out Lorasi, the good doctor and the twins had the same idea. Even Wolfy came to the conclusion, half-deranged as he was—"

"Link is here?!" Sheik asked with a gasp. The last he remembered of his lover was a bone-rattling howl, and something huge leaping through the tunnel, spreading chaos and destruction among their enemies. "Where? I need to see him!" The entire bed frame creaked as he tried to break free of his bonds, and this time not even Ascal's cooling touch helped. "Please!"

"Calm down," Ascal said, his voice taking on an even deeper note that Sheik could have sworn he felt reverberate in the pit of his stomach. It instantly made him obey, settling down. "Good boy." A warm feeling rose in his chest again. "Hm, good to know _you_ at least respond to that," Ascal muttered. "Now, Wolfy had a bit of an interesting experience down in the sewers," he explained. "He decided to embrace his inner beast, and turned into a full wolfos right then and there. That was still months away, but it seems you getting shot was a sort of catalyst."

Sheik listened, fearing the worst. Link had turned fully? Did that mean he was now a monster? One that had to be put down?

"Even more amazing," Ascal continued, "he even managed to turn back into his original form, albeit not entirely present, though that is to be expected given he's half-starved. A good meal when he wakes, and he should be right as rain...or as right as he could be, all things considered. It remains to be seen whether he has retained his sanity, which is why we have him tied down in the other room."

Sheik wondered why they weren't kept together, and Ascal chuckled again, as if reading his mind.

"He may not recognise you upon awakening, and might panic in the same manner as you did," he explained calmly. "The last thing we need is you two mauling each other out of instinct."

Sheik did his best to calm down. There was too much guesswork to Ascal's explanation, but he couldn't tear loose to verify it for himself. But Link was here, at least, was still alive. That would have to be enough for now. He pulled at the rope of his right wrist.

"So..." he began, trailing off. "I'm a...a..."

"Vampire, yes," Ascal finished for him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"You asked...if I wanted to die."

"I did. You were bleeding out from a gut shot. If I hadn't turned you, you wouldn't be here right now. Your corpse would be providing some sewer critters with a grand meal. I have already had this discussion with your friends—I am not apologising for saving your life."

"But why?"

"You're expecting some sort of sentimental reason?" Ascal asked mockingly. "That I felt I had to save Rivea's grandson from perishing?" His tone was venomous, but Sheik could tell there wasn't nearly as much force behind it—like Ascal couldn't be bothered trying to appear genuine. "Please," he snorted. "I need you alive in order to get rid of Dehl. I need fighters."

"Can't do...much fighting from this bed," Sheik said, tugging at his bonds for emphasis, trying and failing to ignore the what he'd learned about his family from Ascal. About his grandmother's death.

"You will, sooner or later," Ascal assured him.

They fell silent for a moment, the only sound filling the room being Sheik's slightly heavy breathing. There was fire in his skin, and he didn't want to think about what it meant, that he would have to...to...

"My grandmother," he said suddenly, drawing Ascal's attention. "She...gave you her blood...willingly?"

"I'm surprised you believe me," Ascal said, voice uncertain. "I would have thought the very idea would be...abhorrent."

"I'm not sure I do...yet..." Sheik admitted. "Impa said—"

"I'm certain she said all sorts of horrifying things about me," Ascal interrupted. "Dutifully remembered as the so-called _truth_ your grandfather spewed at her ever since I left." He sounded bitter. "I have only one regret," he said, taking a breath. "That I didn't kill _him_ as well."

_Bullshit_ , Sheik thought. _You can pretend all you like, but I can tell you're lying._

His face must have showed it, for Ascal snorted. "You know nothing, little brother."

"I know you didn't leave me to die, despite claiming to hate my family," Sheik said.

"Maybe I turned you out of a petty need for revenge against your grandfather?" Ascal suggested with a grin. "Turned his grandson into the one thing he hated the most?"

"I don't think you did," Sheik maintained. "I don't think my grandfather was even on your mind the moment you decided to do it."

Ascal shifted in his seat, looking away. "Perhaps not," he said. "But if you ask me exactly _why_ I decided to turn you, I won't have an answer for you. Not a clear one, at any rate." He sighed. "Rivea would have called it sympathy, maybe even love, but that's not it. What sort of madman would harbour love for someone who shot them in the head, eh?" He grinned. "No, clearly some sort of temporary insanity that took over briefly...and it really is a big _fuck you_ to your grandfather."

"Hard to take your words as truth when there's no one left alive to confirm your story, though," Sheik said. "For all I know, everything you told me was a big load of shit."

_Not that I'll admit it sounded truer than anything else I've ever been told about my family_ , Sheik admitted to himself. He'd never met his grandfather, but rumours and stories he'd been told over the years had not painted a flattering image. His mother and father, from what he could remember, had never spoken about him at all.

"Out of professional curiosity," Ascal said. "What _did_ old Rama die of, anyway?"

"Looking for a grave to dance on?" Sheik asked.

"More like something humorous to toast," the older vampire admitted. "I only heard that he passed around five years after I left, never the cause. At the time I didn't care, but now, after remembering...well..."

"He died from the flu," Sheik said bluntly. It had been a long, drawn out process, too. An ignominious end to the shortest term as master hunter. "Caught it somewhere out west, and never managed to shake it off."

Ascal snorted. "Well-deserved," he said. He looked Sheik over, frowning. "Even if you don't quite believe me, I'm surprised at how well you've taken what I told you. There was a lot of...unflattering information on your family there."

"No one's perfect," Sheik said, no less surprised than Ascal.

Ascal laughed at that. "Truer words have never been spoken, little brother," he said, standing up. "I'm going to check in on your wolf, see if he's awake yet. You just rest."

Sheik bit his lower lip, ignoring the twinge of pain it sent through his maxilla. "Why didn't you contact him?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Hm?" Ascal paused, his hand on the doorknob, but not turning back to face him. It left a cold feeling in Sheik's stomach, but he wasn't sure if it was from the vampire walking away, or because of the question he was asking.

"My grandmother," Sheik said slowly, haltingly. "She asked you to...contact her uncle, ask him to send—"

"How exactly do you think that would have played out, little brother?" Ascal asked, still not turning back, speaking into the door, muffling half his words. "I had just murdered eight hunters, and gotten his beloved niece killed. Regardless of what he thought of me before, do you truly believe Aien would have sent your aunt and mother to be raised by a _vampire_? Rama would never have accepted that—I had no intention of upsetting things even further."

"I see..."

Ascal opened the door, but before he closed it behind him, he muttered, barely loud enough for Sheik to hear, "And I was afraid."

Alone, Sheik's mind began to spin as another wave of exhaustion came over him. What would life have been like, he wondered...

* * *

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the room was considerably brighter when Sheik next opened his eyes—a few stray shafts of sunlight escaping through the curtains that covered the window. He hissed, turning his head away as his eyes stung from looking at it. The aches and pains of his body had lessened somewhat, but the fire still remained beneath his skin, and his stomach felt emptier than he'd ever experienced.

A wave of nausea overcame him at the thought of what he had to do to stop it. He didn't want to. Taking the blood of another...he couldn't. Wouldn't.

He heard talking outside, muffled by the walls. Loud talking. Arguing. The voices were familiar—one of them was Ascal's. Growling, Sheik pulled at his bonds once more. If there was a discussion going on, he needed to be part of it.

Maybe it was the time he'd spent resting, or his...his _development_ having progressed, but as Sheik continued to pull, there was a loud creak...and the bedpost he'd been tied to broke, snapping off the frame like it was nothing. It struck his forehead, but he barely noticed it, too focused on ache in his shoulder...and the sheer strength of what he'd just done.

Someone shouted, and he quickly tore at the knots around his wrists and ankles, undoing them quickly and throwing himself off the bed. His legs were unsteady, but he powered through. His clothes had been changed to a loose-fitting shirt and linen trousers, more akin to pyjamas than proper clothes. He stumbled to the door and tore it open.

Four pairs of eyes, turned to look at him. Three of them angry, one impassive.

"Sheik!" Kafei hurried over to him, grabbing his shoulders in a tight grip and looking him over, a worried frown growing with each second. "Are you all right?" he asked. "The vamp said that you...that he..."

"Turned me," Sheik finished for him, nodding and closing his eyes. He couldn't bear the look of disgust that would surely come to his cousin's face when he realised that he'd been turned into a monster, an unsightly beast... "It's true," he added in a whisper.

Kafei's grip slackened, and he sighed. "I thought he was lying, that he was trying to piss me off."

"Now why would I lie about something like that?" Ascal asked.

"Shut up, leech," Elenwe growled, joining Kafei in examining Sheik closely.

"You do realise you're insulting _him_ too now, right?" Ascal asked no one in particular.

"Sheik," Elenwe said, touching his cheek and forcing him to open his eyes. She looked sad, and gave a shuddering sigh when she examined his eyes. What was wrong with them? "It's...it's true, then."

Kafei stepped back, shaking his head. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, asking no one in particular.

"Do you want the long story or the abridged version?" Ascal asked lightly, earning himself another scathing glare from Tira, who was maintaining a certain distance from both of them. Was it because of...? "He was injured, and I saved him. That's all there is to it. Be grateful, because he wouldn't have survived otherwise."

"I should be grateful for you turning my cousin into a monster?" Kafei growled, hand reaching for his sword. Sheik tried to stop him, but Kafei shook him off. "I was willing to work with you to kill Dehl—not for you to sire more vampires!"

"You really ought to keep your voice down," Ascal said, paying no heed to what Kafei was actually saying. "You don't want the employees at this place to know _all_ your secrets, do you?"

Kafei looked torn, hand lingering on the hilt of his sword, before sighing and dropping it, staring at his fisted hands. "Impa was right about you," he muttered.

"Kaf," Sheik said gently, trying to touch his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, but the other Sheikah stepped out of the way.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, stalking away, heading for the stairs, stomping down.

Sheik swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. Did...did Kafei hate him now? For something he hadn't been able to control, for something that had been necessary for his survival? He touched the spot where he'd felt the bullet penetrating his side. Would Kafei have preferred that he died down there, in the muck?

Tira looked between them for a moment before following the retreating Kafei, throwing an apologetic look in Sheik's direction without saying a word. She too, then.

He looked to Elenwe, who was staring after the two of them, her lips a hard, thin line, eyes narrowed. "Fools," she muttered. "Don't mind them, Sheik," she said firmly, touching his cheek once more, before grabbing his neck and pulling him close, resting her forehead against his. "They just need a little time to adjust. You're not a monster, you hear me? You're _not_."

"I sort of am," Sheik said helplessly, hating the way his voice wavered.

"Your actions define what you are," she said. "Nothing else."

"...okay..."

"Now, go back to bed, you look exhausted" she told him. "I need to ensure those two don't drink themselves to death at the bar. I'll be back soon, all right?"

"I want to see Link," he said, aware that he sounded a bit like a child before bedtime, but not caring. He was tired, and he was in pain, and he wanted to see his fucking alpha! "Is he awake?"

"He's drifting in and out, but he's pretty confused. Doctor Kaura's working on getting him to eat to make up for what he lost when he transformed." Ascal piped up, having remained silent during their little exchange. "If you're lucky, he'll be lucid enough to recognise you."

"I leave him to you, then," Elenwe said, looking none-too-happy about it.

"I'm the only one here capable of handling him anyway," Ascal said, giving her that languid smile Sheik _knew_ he used to piss people off. "You go ensure there's no alcohol poisoning in our ranks."

"You know where to find me," she told Sheik, and went off in search of her partners.

Sheik managed to hold on until she was out of sight before his legs began to wobble, and his posture began sagging. Ascal was quick to catch him, slinging his arm over his shoulder to support him. "You really shouldn't be out of bed," the vampire said, sniffing. "Did you break it?"

"Just the post," Sheik said. He felt stronger, but at the same time his body was so...lethargic. "Am I supposed to feel all...rubbery?"

"It's fairly normal," Ascal said, slowly leading him towards the door opposite of his. "It'll pass quickly enough, once you're finished, as it were."

"Can't wait," Sheik muttered, drawing an amused titter from his sire...

_Sire...is that what I have to call him now?_ Sheik wondered. It felt wrong and right at the same time. Was there some sort of deranged bond between a vampire those they sired?

"Thinking too hard about these things is not conducive to your recovery," Ascal said, knocking on the door. "Delivery!" he called through the wooden barrier.

Sheik tried to smile when Lor opened the door, but it faded quickly enough when his friend tensed up and was barely able to look at him. "I'm glad you're awake," Lor muttered. "Link's...he's a little out of it."

"Lor..."

"Not now, Sheik," Lor said with a shudder. "Just...not now. All right? We can talk later."

"All right..."

"You heading to the bar too, Lorasi?" Ascal asked, but the boy did not answer. He simply walked off, closely followed by Ard, who patted Sheik's shoulder in a show of support.

"Glad you're not dead," the scientist said, grimacing a bit at his own choice of words. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Sheik assured him.

"I get the distinct feeling your friends has some issues with you," Ascal said, pouting. "I wonder why that is..."

"Has there ever been a moment in your entire existence where you have _not_ been a complete and utter arsehole?" Sheik asked, the lump still in his throat. Ascal didn't answer as he helped Sheik inside the room, and by the time he saw Link he didn't care what the vampire had to say for himself. "Link..." he breathed.

His lover was covered in bruises in various states of healing—black, blue, yellow—stains beneath his pale skin that only accentuated how frail he looked right then. It wasn't a good look for Link. Link was supposed to stand tall and strong, looking every bit the powerful warrior he was.

"I thought you said he was supposed to rest," Kaura said, looking up from the Hylian's side, eyeing Sheik warily. It made him want to sigh. _You too, doctor?_

"He is, but when he started destroying the bed I figured it was time to burn off some excess energy by moving around a bit," Ascal said happily. "And he wanted to see his wolf, so here we are." He guided Sheik to a chair by the bed and helped him sit down, taking a moment to put his hand against Sheik's forehead, once more grinning when the cool touch only made Sheik lean into it. The boy himself was horrified by his behaviour, but it felt so _good_...

Link's eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling steadily, his lips parted. It may have been Sheik's imagination, but he could have sworn Link's face had grown thinner, his cheekbones more prominent than before...as was his clavicle. Had transforming burned through all his body fat, somehow? That didn't seem possible...surely spending so much energy in so little time was lethal?

"His healing ability helps quite a bit," Ascal said, once again apparently reading his mind. "Without it, he'd die."

"Don't want to hear it," Sheik said under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"Will you just leave me alone for five goddamn minutes?!" Sheik snarled at him. "And stop reading my fucking mind!"

Ascal didn't even blink in the face of the verbal assault. He simply nodded and went for the door. "As you wish," he said, pausing. "And for the record, I'm not actually reading your _mind_ , little brother."

The door shut, and Sheik let his body fall forward, burying his face in the mattress of Link's bed, inches away from his lover's form. He almost didn't dare touch him, for fear of Link reacting badly to it. He was surprised, then, by someone else placing a gentle hand in his hair, gently tugging a little at the tangled mess it had surely become.

"That man is absolutely insufferable," Kaura groused. "If we didn't need him in order to care for you, I'd use him for anatomy practice."

Sheik looked up at her, surprised. Her hand stayed in his hair, despite the awkward position. "You don't...hate me?" he asked carefully, noting that Erd was occupied with a complex-looking alchemy set in the corner of the room. He had yet to make a comment or even glance in their direction, it seemed.

Kaura scowled. "Don't get me wrong, kid—I curse the day you walked into my life for the sheer hell I've been put through...but do I hate you for what he's done to you, which you had no choice but to accept to avoid dying? Hell no. I hate _him_ for all I'm worth, but not you. Just don't turn out like him, and we'll be golden."

"I'll need to feed, though," Sheik said carefully, reaching out and running his fingers along the soft skin of Link's inner forearm, watching the goose bumps form there.

"From what I understand, you can survive on animal blood," Kaura said matter-of-factly. "And worst comes to worst, he mentioned something about _donors_? People willingly offering their blood to sustain you, in exchange for whatever? Seems a beneficial agreement to me, if a little dangerous if you don't know what you're doing..."

"You're a doctor," Sheik said drily.

"First and foremost I'm a person," she said, sounding offended. "One who is not willing to see people she cares about suffer without trying to find a way to avoid it."

Sheik chuckled. "Are you growing soft on me, Doctor Kaura?" he asked.

"Nah," she said, also laughing. "Once you've recovered and are back at full strength, I'll be kicking your arse up and down these hallways, just you wait and see."

"She really will," Erd added, still focusing on whatever it was he was working on. "While we were waiting for you to wake up, she ran physicals on the employees here. She found several of them wanting in terms of physical health and let them have it." He chuckled. "I swear, she was _this_ close to giving them all a collective spanking."

"It is no joking matter," she told the twin. "If their immune system is compromised because of malnourishment, lack of self-care, or any other reason, do you have any idea what a minor infection will do to this place? It'll become a hotbed for disease!"

"If you say so, doc," Erd said. "Now please don't make any sudden loud noises—I'm in the middle of a very critical stage of this brew."

"I'll show you a loud, sudden noise," the very mature and dignified doctor said in a quiet voice. "Bend you right over my knee, I will..."

"How is he?" Sheik asked, glancing at Link's face. His features were drawn tight, as if in pain or having a nightmare.

"Hard to say," Kaura admitted. "Whenever he wakes, he is not quite there. He keeps mentioning your name, signing that he's lost you and that he has to find you, but he barely has the strength to open his eyes and move his fingers, much less do anything else. I've tried to make him eat something whenever he's conscious, but he just refuses, only having a few bites before drifting away again."

"Ascal said he might have gone insane from what happened," Sheik whispered.

"I doubt that," she said dismissively. "He wouldn't take the effort to sign otherwise. He's just confused. Maybe your presence will help soothe him, make him more willing to cooperate. The sooner he starts eating, the better."

Sheik hummed. "You're taking all this very well," he noted. "For a doctor, I mean. The things you're seeing...they shouldn't be physically possible, right?"

"They shouldn't, and yet I am seeing them with my own eyes," the physician said, patting a notebook on the nightstand. "I make observations and theorise, try to connect the dots, all that. Not much of this makes sense, but I'd be remiss if I didn't actually document my findings. And as for how I'm handling it...well, I didn't bat an eye when the princess of Hyrule showed up on my doorstep, did I, despite how unlikely it was. I just choose to have that mind-set with everything else that happens these days. It helps quite a bit, actually." She took her eyes off Link and put a hand on Sheik's cheek, pulling at his lower eyelid with her thumb. "Your eyes are different," she noted.

"How?" Sheik asked, not having seen them himself. Had they turned amber, like Ascal and Dehl's?

"There's gold in them now, four dots around the iris in each eye," she said, pulling out a small surgical mirror, holding it up to his face. "Still mostly red, though."

"Guess I can still pass for just a Sheikah, then, if people don't look too closely," Sheik said, blinking at the diamond formations around his irises. "That's...good."

"You're still a Sheikah," she said, removing the mirror. "You're just...enhanced."

He recognised the attempt at cheering him up, but he found it didn't help. "Tell that to Kafei," he said.

"Who cares what he thinks?" she said, snorting. "This is the same man who drank himself into a stupor and waved a gun around when his wife was injured. Not really the pinnacle of intelligence, that one. What does he know?"

Sheik was going to respond, but then there came a whine from the sleeping Hylian, and his eyes began to flutter open—grey pupils slowly focusing on the ceiling above him. "..." he tried to speak, his voice but his voice was still gone, but there was no mistaking the word his lips formed.

_Sheik_

"I'm here, Link," Sheik said, sitting up so Link wouldn't have to move his head to see him. "I'm here. I'm all right."

A smile broke out on the Hylian's lips at the sound of Sheik's voice, and his eyes slowly roamed the room until they landed on him—and focused. His smile broadened, and he tried to reach out to touch him, but his hand would barely move. Sheik took it in both of his, rubbing his thumbs against the sensitive palm.

"You're all right," Sheik said, trying to sound soothing but his voice cracked a little—from relief at seeing Link recognising him, or just frustration from how everything had gone to shit the moment they set foot inside the city again? Hard to tell...

Link breathed in...and frowned. He sniffed at the air, nostrils flaring a little as he took in the scent of the room. His lips turned down, and he pulled his hand out of Sheik's, joining the other at his chest, where the fingers began moving in slow, unsteady patterns.

**You smell different**

Sheik's breath hitched, and he felt a sudden urge to leave the room, but he forced himself to remain seated. Not that he had much of a chance leaving, given how his body was really just a big pile of jelly at this point. So he focused on the matter at hand, nodding slowly. "I suppose I do," he said slowly. "I've...I've been changed, Link. Do you remember what happened?"

Hands still moving, Link's face scrunched up. **Ambush. You injured. I...** He hesitated. **Beast?**

"I don't quite recall that, myself," Sheik admitted. "I heard a howl, but I don't think I saw it fully...because I was bleeding out on the floor, shot in the gut. Do you remember that?"

Link nodded.

"I was dying, Link—Ascal got me out of there, but he couldn't get me to a doctor in time. I wasn't going to make it...so he turned me. He turned me into a vampire." He couldn't look into Link's eyes as he said that, his gaze drifting down to the mattress instead.

If his scent had changed, did that mean Link no longer recognised him as his lover? As his...his mate? He wasn't sure if he could take it, on top of everything else. The others...he had to believe they just needed time, but if Link couldn't see him in the same way anymore...what was even the point of surviving, if all he could look forward to was ostracism from all he had ever cared about?

Link was quiet for a long moment (not that he could be loud anymore, verbally at least), and then made a very deliberate huffing noise, drawing Sheik's attention back to him. Once the Sheikah vampire's eyes were back on him, Link signed again, making sure to do it as slowly and assuredly as possible, as if to ensure there was no ambiguity or room for misunderstanding whatsoever.

**I did not say you smell bad**

There was no helping the snort Sheik made at that, nor the way his eyes watered at the look of adoration in the Hylian's tired greys. Nor could he help the way he leaned forward and placed his lips against Link's, feeling the Hylian respond slowly and leisurely, a previously unnoticed tension in Link's body relaxing immediately as one hand moved up to grip at Sheik's neck possessively.

"That's our cue to leave, I think," Sheik heard Kaura say, coupled with the rustle of clothes. It sounded far away, his attention so utterly focused on the warm body beneath him, the way Link seemed determined to pull him onto the bed (and mostly succeeding despite his weakened condition).

He heard Erd give a sound of protest, and say, "At least let me grab the beaker!" before their footsteps faded away, and a door slammed shut.

Link trilled happily as he finally managed to pull Sheik on top of him, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into the crook of the Sheikah's neck, as he had so many times before, sniffing deeply. Sheik gasped when he felt the Hylian's teeth lightly nip at the sensitive skin, not nearly enough to break the skin, just...a little sign of possession.

Still mine, it meant. You're still mine.

His tears were rolling freely by then, and Sheik could only repay the favour before he began sobbing and embarrassing himself completely. "And you're still mine," he whispered into Link's ear before biting down on the sensitive tip, causing his alpha's entire body to shiver.

Link pulled back, his eyes shining as his hands signed.

**Monsters together?**

"Together," Sheik confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone takes Sheik's change as well, it seems, but at least Link understands and doesn't hold it against him.


	73. The Boy

Elenwe could have sworn she had only been with Sheik for a few minutes before following them, but by the time she caught up to Kafei and Tira at the bar on the empty ground floor of the Temple, the two of them were already into their second glass of some strong-smelling liquor, a bottle labelled "Ab"-something between them. She didn't say anything at first, observing her husband and her hunting partner as they wordlessly downed their drinks, immediately pouring a third.

Pathetic, she thought, clenching her jaw.

Had Kafei not _seen_ his cousin's face when he'd shrugged him off, telling him not to touch him? Elenwe had known Kafei for a long time (almost too long), and while he certainly had plenty of bad traits and unfortunate ways of thinking, he had never been deliberately cruel or hateful. Or had he simply hidden it too well for her to notice? No, that wasn't it. She liked to think herself a good judge of character—you had to be, growing up a pirate and liable to be stabbed in the back by every other person (even your own mother!) on the ship. She would have pegged Kafei for a bastard immediately, and would certainly never have fallen in love with him...

So, that wasn't it, so why had he acted like he did? Shock? Surprise? That could have been a reason. Kafei had never been fond of surprises, not even positive ones. He hated being caught unaware, which was why he always planned his hunts so meticulously. He was certainly able to improvise when the situation called for it (which was, given the nature of their prey, necessary more often than not), but he was never happy about it. Though...that usually only drew out his sarcasm, and an innate desire to go work off his annoyance and anger in the sparring ring. It hadn't been sarcasm, up there, nor the lukewarm heat she had grown so accustomed to. It had been genuine _rage_.

At Sheik? Definitely at Ascal, but _also_ at Sheik? Why? That made no sense. It wasn't _Sheik's_ fault this had happened. So, not at the act itself, but...at what Sheik might do? Was Kafei afraid Sheik would turn into a second instance of Ascal, and decided to distance himself already? That thought nearly made her snort. The thought of Sheik—adorable, tiny, little Sheik—becoming anything like the one who turned him was laughable at best.

Honestly, she wanted to clobber Kafei around the ears and drag him back upstairs, force him to talk to Sheik and realise that his cousin was still, more or less, the same person they'd bid good luck the day before, but adding fuel to an already tense situation wasn't going to help, and she was hesitant to add domestic violence to the mix as well. She'd hoped for another few good years before reaching _that_ stage.

She looked closer at Tira, honestly even more baffled by the Hylian's reaction. Granted, she and Sheik had never been particularly close, but they'd seemed friendly enough. She hadn't actually _said_ anything...but she hadn't exactly come to his defence either, wordlessly following her partner in a way that implied consensus. Now _Tira_ , Elenwe had no problem beating up. They did that to each other all the time. It was practically a hobby between them.

"Can't fucking believe it..." Kafei muttered, his back still turned to his wife, still unaware of her presence. Tira turned her head to him, eyes watching him closely.

"Hm?" she asked.

"I take my eyes off him for one day," Kafei continued. " _One_ day, and he gets himself turned into a vamp...I should have known..."

The venom in his voice made something crack within Elenwe, and she scowled as she stalked up to the bar, throwing herself onto the stool next to Kafei's, giving him no time to respond before saying, "You're pathetic," taking his glass from him. He didn't protest, only gave her a long-suffering look.

"I am," he agreed.

"He is your _family_ ," she hissed, her eyes landing on Tira when the Hylian attempted to quietly extricate herself from the conversation. "Sit the fuck _down_!" she told her. Tira did as she was told, looking chastened.

"E, I—" Kafei began, but she cut him off by slamming her fist onto the bar, the loud thump echoing slightly in the empty room.

"No, I don't want to hear your reason for treating him like a monster," she cut him off. "I'm not interested! Whatever idiotic thoughts are coursing around in that hollow brain of yours are so wrong Ivan himself is shaking his head at you! And you sure as hell aren't allowed to blame _him_ for this, no more than you can blame Link for getting torn half-apart by a fucking _wolf_!"

"Listen, please, I'm not—"

But she wasn't interested in his justification for treating his cousin like scum, didn't want to hear whatever stupidity had taken root in his mind. She was angry; angry and sad. Sheik didn't deserve this—to have his last remaining blood relative reject him out of hand over something beyond his control! She'd seen Sheik in many moods over the years, good and bad, but the stricken look that had come to his face at Kafei's venomous rejection had been...heart-breaking.

"What would Impa say, hm? What would _she_ say about this? About how you're treating her own flesh and blood, eh? And I swear to the Goddess, Kafei, if you say she would have preferred that he _died_ , I will—"

"Elenwe," Tira said suddenly, her calm, quiet voice full of reproach. "Let him speak."

She drew a deep breath, focusing on her husband, head lowered in abject misery. "She would have been ashamed," he whispered, voice shaking.

That set Elenwe off again, and she opened her mouth to give him another lashing, but then he looked up at her, eyes wet from more than just the strong spirits. "She would have been ashamed of me," he said, the last two words making her blink.

"What—"

"She trusted me with the clan leadership," Kafei said, taking his glass back from her momentarily slack hand, sipping at the green-tinted liquid. "Trusted me to keep you all safe...and what's the first thing that happens?" He chuckled humourlessly. "I get her fucking nephew turned into a vampire...by the same leech that killed her _and_ her mother!" He downed the rest of it in one go, slamming the glass down on the bar, immediately reaching for the bottle.

Silent, Elenwe let him. Had she misinterpreted this?

"She said I was ready, that she didn't trust anyone else with him, didn't want anyone else leading the Half-Suns until Sheik came of age...and here we are." He poured and drank. "Could I possibly have failed any worse?"

"You weren't there," Tira tried, but that only made the Sheikah growl, his hand tightening around his glass.

"I _should_ have been," he snapped. "What was I thinking, sending Sheik off with that...that bloodsucker?!"

"He was with Link—"

"And look how well _that_ turned out!" he almost said in a high-pitch, almost wailing. "Nearly lost them both! And that smug, fucking leech, just standing there and smiling, like what he's done is perfectly natural!" He bent forward, hitting his head on the bar, moaning. "She couldn't have chosen someone worse to take her place!"

Elenwe sighed, wishing she had taken a little more time to listen to what he was saying. Of all the things he could be upset about... She touched his shoulder, and he flinched at first, but slowly looked at her again, clearly expecting another tongue-lashing, finding her narrowed eyes staring down at him.

"This is not the time for self-pity," she said firmly. "Your cousin is up there, terrified that you, his last remaining relative, hates him for something he had no way to stop." She tightened her hold on his shoulder as she spoke, hoping he'd snap out of it. "Is _that_ what you want him to think?"

"No, but...he might—"

"Speculating in what Sheik may or may not do is pointless, K," she said with a groan. "It's _Sheik_ , for the Goddess' sake! Can you ever imagine him, no matter what he's turned into, becoming _anything_ like Ascal? They're bloody polar opposites!"

Tira smiled a little at that, head dipping in a nod. Good to see she was getting through to _someone_ , at least!

Kafei didn't answer for a moment, which seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Then he shook his head. "No...Sheik isn't...wouldn't be a...a monster...he's too stubborn and contrary."

Elenwe grinned. "That's right—he'll be nothing like Ascal because he can't stand the bastard, and will continue to refuse to out of sheer willpower!"

"He was such a brat when he was younger," Kafei said, smiling a little now, his words beginning to slur. Damn, how strong _was_ this stuff, anyway? Elenwe surreptitiously pushed the bottle out of his reach, not really prepared to deal with an injured, vampirised Sheik, a possibly comatose Link, _and_ a drunk Kafei at the same time. It was too much for any sane person to handle! "Kept teasing me for not being as good as him at climbing trees, of all things."

"Sheik climbed trees?" Tira asked in disbelief. "I can't even imagine him doing something so frivolous. He'd use that word. _Frivolous_." She sounded the word out slowly, and judging by how much she struggled with the latter part of it, she too was well on her way to a future hangover.

Elenwe looked at the two of them, wondering why she'd chosen _these_ two for partners, romantically and professionally, and very briefly regretting leaving her mother's fleet. All it took to quench _that_ thought, however, was the image of one of her sisters pointing a gun at her. Eugh, no pirate's life for me, she thought.

"Right, you two are done for the day," she said with a sigh, grabbing their shoulders in turn and pulling them off their stools, guiding them straight to the comfortable-looking sofas in the corner of the room (which was easier said than done with only one arm), but Kafei began pulling at her coat, whining a little.

"I should talk to Sheik," he slurred. "Need to apologise—"

"You can do that later, when you're _not_ about to pass out from...from...what the hell were you even drinking, anyway?"

"Absins...absinthe!" Tira said, proud at having gotten it right on her second attempt...on a word that should not need more than one. "Almost a hundred percent pure alcohol!"

And they were drinking it by the _glass_ , Elenwe thought. I really _did_ have to make sure there was no poisoning in our ranks. Ascal being right did _not_ make her happy.

She had intended on lambasting Tira for her callousness too, or at least find out why the hell _she_ felt so strongly about it, but decided not to. In a few minutes, she'd likely be too addled to even realise who she was. Elenwe simply have to save it for when she woke up—a hangover was usually a keen ally when yelling at the sufferer.

"But, but Sheik needs—"

"His cousin to be well and truly sober, and properly remorseful and ashamed when he apologises," she said, pushing him onto the sofa and flipping his feet onto it, causing her husband (though she was loath to call him that just now) to groan.

"The room is spinning," he said.

"If you puke, I'm not cleaning it up," she warned him, pushing Tira into the other sofa, thumping her partner on the shoulder hard, just to ensure she knew that Elenwe wasn't pleased with _her_ either.

"You have some explaining to do, _sister dear_ ," she said sweetly, pulling Tira's hat down over her eyes. Not one to consume anything harder than wine except in emergencies, and generally not on copious amounts, Tira was out like a light. Elenwe made a note to check on her periodically, to make sure she hadn't had _too_ much.

"She's afraid," Kafei mumbled, partly out as well.

"Hm?" Elenwe asked a little gentler, kneeling at the sofa, pulling his hair out of his face. She did _not_ regret making him dye it after losing their bet. Best decision of her life, really, after marrying him.

"Tira...afraid of vampires..." Kafei elaborated...or tried to, at any rate. His words were too muffled by his own tongue and lips to hear clearly. "Has nightmares..."

"She should still know better," Elenwe said with a snort. "The only way Sheik would figure in a nightmare would be if it were about whatever he and Link get up to when they're alone."

She enjoyed the grimace that came across his face at that thought, his hands covering his eyes as he let out a whine. " _Noooooo..._ "

"That's right," she whispered, taking a certain pleasure in torturing her idiot husband. "Sheik has _sex_ with Link, and probably lots of it, the two of them being that age."

"My poor, sweet, innocent cousin..." Kafei moaned.

Better than _vamp_ or _leech_ , Elenwe thought, standing up. Her point had been made, even if she had her doubts that it would be remembered with clarity. If it weren't, she'd just have to reiterate it with none of the gentleness she'd offered her drunken partners.

And here I believed I _wouldn't_ have to deal with this crap when I chose my new friends and family, she thought, adjusting Kafei until he _seemed_ comfortable, leaning down to whisper again:

"Impa made the right choice, and she would have been _proud_ of how you've handled the leadership so far. Consider this your first challenge, and prove that you're actually capable of being _family_ too."

She had no idea if he heard her, but she would be more than willing to tell him again and again until he went and did just that.

Outside the bar, by the door, Ascal was getting dressed, throwing on his coat.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"Out," he said simply. His shoulders were high with tension, she noticed, and his eyes looked...dull. Like he was tired. She'd noticed it upstairs as well, but hadn't thought anything of it.

"Why?"

"Personal business."

A bullshit answer. She stepped closer. "You're not going anywhere, especially not _alone_."

He gave her a very long, unimpressed once-over, raising his eyebrow in a challenge. "What, are _you_ going to stop me? Do you really think yourself capable? I doubt it," he said, amusement in his voice.

"I can try," she said, clenching her one fist. "I'm not a complete cripple, you know."

"Never said you were," he said, shrugging. "Only that you're not strong enough to stop _me_."

He was right, of course, but Elenwe would never admit that. At least he didn't think it was because of her missing arm... She still stepped forward when he tried to open the door, getting in his way. That seemed to get on his very last nerve, and he bared his teeth at her...and his fangs flicked into place.

"I am going out to _feed_!" he hissed, keeping his voice down.

"But you killed that horse at the border—"she began, but he hissed again.

"That was barely enough to tide me over," he said. "And now, thanks to little brother getting himself shot, I wasted a _lot_ of energy and my own blood to keep him alive, and if I have to stay in this building full of heartbeats any longer, I _will_ drink from someone here!"

The words came out in a rush, and with great frustration. Elenwe blinked. Had he been feeling like this the entire time? If so, that was an impressive amount of self-restraint. But still...

"I really shouldn't let you go alone..." she said uncertainly.

"Tough luck, child of the desert," he said. "Because I'm doing just that, and you're not stopping me. Now kindly get out of my way, or there _will_ be blood. _Literally_."

She glared at him, but stood aside anyway. She had no chance of stopping him, and shouting for help would simply draw outside attention to the building. "You'd better come back right away," she hissed, ignoring the fact that she was basically allowing a vampire to go out and find a random victim whose blood to take.

"Wouldn't dream of abandoning all _this_ ," he said sarcastically, slamming the door behind him, leaving Elenwe alone in the entrance.

"I'm a Gerudo of the _sea_ , asshole," she muttered.

* * *

Ascal had been too focused on caring for the boy to notice how truly famished he was becoming. He'd been expecting it, of course, given how little he'd been feeding for...well, ever since he'd left Hyrule, really. His last _proper_ feeding had been on that Sheikah hunter who'd made the mistake of overlooking Arthur, and...well, all he'd managed to get since then were scraps at best. It was no wonder his patience was running out and he was growing a little testy.

Not that he felt bad about insulting the one-armed Gerudo. It was only the crudeness of the exchange that had annoyed him. He was better than that; could _speak_ better than that. Shouldn't have had to resort to childish sarcasm...even if it _had_ felt good.

It was getting late in the afternoon by the time he left the Temple, tucking his collar high and pulling his hat down low, shielding his eyes from the last rays of the glaring sun. It pricked at the back of his mind, reminding him of a purchase he needed to make. The thought made his lips curl unpleasantly. It had all been a mistake, releasing what he'd worked so hard to lock away. Forty years of something approaching contentment, and all it had taken was one little request and he'd caved, almost _eager_ to bring it all back, every little nasty thing he'd never wanted to relive once again coursing through his thoughts like a stampeding herd of cattle.

Am I really that much of a pushover? he wondered, turning onto the less crowded streets around the Shades, hoping to spot some poor, unfortunate fool he could take. Animal blood wouldn't do it this time—he needed something far more potent, or he'd never regain the strength he needed to fight his wayward daughter. He wouldn't kill them, of course, wouldn't drain them. He'd just...nibble a little. If done right, it'd simply leave them a little (very) light-headed...and if he caught them unawares, they'd even enjoy it. The potent cocktail of endorphins and other lovely chemicals contained in a vampire's bite was nothing if not effective...as long as the victim wasn't struggling.

He passed by a pawn broker's shop (itself looking more than ready to be pawned off on the nearest idiot), and went inside, wondering if he could find what he needed there. He did. He caught himself starting to grin at the sight of the item, and forced himself not to. It was all out of practicality, not at all out of sentimentality. He needed the boy at full strength, and if this would help him achieve that, then all the better for Ascal.

Pocketing the purchase carefully, he returned to his casual stalking through the streets, ducking out of the way of patrolling watchmen or spies clearly in Dehl's employ. They were laughably obvious, their foreign clothing standing out in a crowd of Hylians. At least Ascal's coat matched the colours and fashions currently taking hold in Castle Town, unlike the black-clad fools who thought they were being stealthy.

...or perhaps Dehl was simply too confident in their numbers to bother with subtlety. That had always been her weakness. If she thought she was winning, she got sloppy. He'd hoped she'd kicked that habit when he'd contacted her for this job, but fortunately it was still living strong.

"Mister Ascal?"

He paused, having unconsciously been following a young girl carrying a basket full of produce, and turned, glad to see there were no watchmen or spies around them. Off the main thoroughfare, Yari had just been emerging from a cobbler's shop, a tightly wrapped package tucked under one arm. He was wearing normal clothes now, as opposed to the lovely uniform he'd had at the temple, his hair pulled back in a simple ponytail instead of hanging loose. A lovely creature, him...and far too young.

"Ah, Yari," he said, forcing his face into something resembling a pleasant smile, ignoring the urge to just drag the boy into an alley and drain him then and there. "What a pleasant surprise—I've missed your presence at the Temple."

Yari blushed, as he always seemed to do around Ascal, smiling back. Such a beautiful colour on his skin, that...mouth-wateringly so. "Well, with the place closed there's not much of a point in staying there," he explained. "I don't have a room there yet, so I'm still lodging with a friend."

Ascal nodded. "I see, I see...well, I hope our presence isn't causing too much of a problem for you, financially, I mean."

"Oh, no, not at all. I had some coin saved up, and I'm helping the old main downstairs in exchange for a rupee or two." Yari bounced a little on the balls of his feet. "Where are you going?" he asked, blushing a little deeper as he realised the rudeness of the question. "Ah, I...I mean—"

"Just out on a walk," Ascal said, taking pity on him. That was a novelty. "Taking in some fresh air. I get a little restless when I am cooped up for too long." He eyed the package. "And you?"

"Just had some shoes repaired," he answered. "The sole was coming off, and the leather was cracking, but it was such a shame to throw them away, I thought, and decided to have them looked at, and..."

Ascal let him babble on for a bit, wondering why the boy found him so fascinating. He had no illusions about himself—Ascal _knew_ he was physically attractive, and his voice was apparently a rather big hit with certain individuals...but no one had ever had such a visceral reaction from the first meeting. People tended to find his eyes a little off-putting, he knew, but Yari only found them interesting.

Ascal wondered if he should do something about this—the boy was training to be a prostitute, employed at a brothel. He hadn't been on the other end of that particular customer-service relationship, but he imagined that emotional attachment, like in many other things ( _most_ other things, in fact), was simply a hindrance at best, dangerous at worst. Like Renard...

Surely the best thing would be to discourage Yari now, crush him completely...but he found that he couldn't summon the words or the will to do so. There was no secret about his identity at the Temple—everyone who still remained knew who he was, what he'd done. There was nothing but hostility and suspicious looks to be had. Sheik, perhaps, offered something else, but that was mostly questions and confusion.

Yari was blissfully ignorant of who Ascal was, of what he'd done, and as a result he simply smiled at him, giving him the same respect and attention as he would anyone. It felt...nice. It struck a part of him that he'd thought long dead and buried, or shackled so deeply that only a select individual got to see it, to touch it.

Jerewin...

He forced himself back to the situation, realising Yari was still talking, now describing the sorry excuse for boots his friend still wore.

Damn me, he thought.

"It was lovely to meet you again, Yari," he said once the boy paused to inhale, pulling his collar down to reveal a little wider smile than before. "If you will forgive me, I must be going."

"I can walk with you?" Yari asked, half-demanded as he fell into step beside Ascal. "If you're heading back to the Temple, that is? I live right nearby."

Isn't that fortuitous, Ascal thought despairingly, his stomach giving a lurch as a wave of hunger came over him, a regular ache beginning to develop at the pit of his gut. It _craved_ sustenance. He could, in all honesty, do it. Yari was but one of many, anonymous. Kids his age disappeared daily—most assumed they simply ran away. What would one more name in that column mean, in the grand scheme of things?

It'd be easy, too. Yari had been something of an explorer, apparently, and knew plenty of odd shortcuts and seemingly dead ends that led to their destination. With the sun gone behind the walls, there were plenty of dark corners and concealing shadows, guaranteed to hide the body until dawn. Hell, the boy was practically a lamb leading himself to slaughter!

Was this some sort of sign from the gods, whom he'd long since cursed into eternity? A plead for him to return to the fold? He nearly laughed out loud at that—as if any god would accept a creature like him walking the earth...unless they were the wicked kind, the sort that simply rolled dice to decide the fates of their creations. Then Ascal could easily imagine himself being the result of either a very high or very low roll.

He was so caught up in his momentary religious debate that he didn't notice Yari slowing down a little, in a small patch of green between four buildings, a mostly forgotten little space hidden behind a broken stone fence, cutting straight through to the next street. He _did_ notice the boy's hand gently tugging at his arm, forcing him to stop and look back.

The blush was back, even stronger this time, and Yari seemed to find it difficult to look in into Ascal's eyes, his gaze resting anywhere but at them.

"Is something the matter?" Ascal asked, pretending he had no clue what was happening. _Hoping_ he had no clue. Because this...this was just not—

"C-Can I kiss you?"

Ascal blinked, and cursed inwardly. Of course it was. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, trying to play it off like he still didn't understand, but Yari only frowned, dropping his package into the snow as he stepped closer, putting his hand on Ascal's chest, right above where his heart was...or the tattered remains of it, as he liked to imagine.

"Can I kiss you?" the boy asked again, emboldened by the fact that Ascal didn't pull back.

"Why do you want to do that?" Ascal asked carefully, hoping to whatever deity, cursed or not, was out there that he'd be granted just a _little_ fucking mercy for once!

"Because...I like you," Yari said, hesitating. "And...you seem kind. And gentle. I'd like you to be my first...before I start working..." He couldn't finish, staring down at their boots, shuffling his feet a little in the snow.

"Kid, I am far from kind," he said, clearing his throat and studiously avoiding looking at the suddenly exposed neck of the boy as he craned his head to look back up at the vampire. "And I am _not_ gentle. I am, in fact, one of the cruellest, most vicious men you will ever meet—"

"That can't be true," Yari protested. "The way you've been caring for that Sheikah boy...I've seen the gentle part in you, and no one who shows that sort of devotion can be...be cruel!"

Or we can be your worst nightmare, Ascal thought. Because you don't see it coming, too ensnared by our outward appearance. If you knew the truth about my _devotion_...would you say the same as you are now?

"A partnership of convenience, at best," he said, shaking his head. "I need him, and he needs me. Once we have accomplished what we came for, chances are one of us will kill the other."

Yari's eyes widened a little at that. "Are you...together?" he asked, voice lowering, as if afraid of the answer.

Where on earth did he get _that_ from?

It nearly made Ascal guffaw with laughter...and gag with disgust. Him, and Rivea's grandson? That was closer to incest than he would ever be comfortable with, despite the lack of a blood relation. Besides, he highly doubted Rivea, wherever she was, would have approved in any way, shape, or form. And then there was the matter of the wolfos—fiercely protective of his mate.

No, that was just a disaster waiting to happen. Plus, Ascal highly doubted he could ever have a relationship, romantic or sexual, with someone who'd put a bullet in his head. That was the sort of thing those new-fangled mind doctors practically _salivated_ at being able to dissect.

And where the hell did Yari get the idea of them being together after being told one of them would likely die at the other's hands in the very near future? What kind of _shit_ was people reading these days?!

Yari must have picked up something in his reaction (or lack thereof), and nodded. "Then why won't you...?"

"I'm too old for you," Ascal said hurriedly, falling back on the one excuse that actually made sense _without_ having to delve into the clusterfuck his life had turned into. Even if he _had_ been the age he looked, Ascal would have been too old. Bloody hell, Yari was barely older than Rivea when she'd been made a hunter!

"I'll be servicing far older clients than you when I start," Yari said, almost sounding desperate. "It's not a problem—"

"It _should_ be," he barked, causing the boy to jump back, eyes wide. He tried desperately not to think that he hadn't had similar compunctions about letting his men have a go at Lorasi, who was the same age as this one. But then...he hadn't been infected by Emory back then. He'd been _just_ Ascal. Now...now he wasn't so sure. "I..." he began, a little softer. "Someone like you shouldn't be working in a place like that," he said.

Yari laughed. "Yes, well...don't have much of a choice, really. Haven't got anywhere else to go, anywhere else to work. No skills, no money, no parents...no nothing."

Emory had always been too much of a bleeding heart. Ascal chose to blame _him_ for all the things he'd done lately. Bleeding through, colouring his thoughts and actions in a way that did not benefit him in any way—only created more problems and potential future unpleasantness. He reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out the money purse he'd _liberated_ from a fat merchant in Thatcher street, intending to spend it on something useful sooner or later. There was more money in this single leather bag than someone like Yari would likely see at one time in his entire life. More than he'd ever make working at the Temple.

"Here," he said, tossing the bag to Yari, who caught it with wide eyes. "Spend that on something useful. Learn a skill, go to school, whatever." He turned away, suddenly finding the cracks in the stone buildings around him very interesting. "Don't come back to the Temple. Leave the city, if possible."

Had Ascal been in Yari's shoes, he'd turn tail and run the moment he had the purse in his hands. It made no sense to hang around a man who had all but claimed to be a monster, someone that could only hurt and kill...which was why he was surprised when he felt a pair of arms encircling him from behind, Yari's forehead brushing against his back, between his shoulder blades.

"Thank you," Yari muttered against the leather of his coat, trembling in that all-too-familiar way that told Ascal he was crying.

Fuck you, Emory, he thought as he turned around and hugged the boy back, barely even flinching when Yari kissed his cheek. That was...all right. It felt nice, somehow. But when Yari tried to kiss him on the lips, he pulled back, shaking his head minutely.

"No," he muttered. "Not me. Someone else. Someone who deserves it."

Yari didn't press the issue. He looked disappointed, but another glance at the purse in his hand brought another smile to his tearstained cheeks. "You're not cruel," he said firmly. "You're kind."

"This merely solved my problem of having too much money," Ascal groused, stepping back until they weren't touching. "Now, I'm not out here for the fresh air, kid," he said. "I'm out to do something _very_ cruel to someone...and I'd rather it not be you. So why don't you head home?"

"What are you going to do, Mister Ascal?" Yari asked, shivering a little, but stepping back to pick up his repaired shoes.

"You don't want to know," Ascal said. "Trust me on this."

"I would trust you with anything, Mister Ascal."

And that's why you need to leave _now_ , Ascal thought. "Then go," he said. "And pray we don't meet again."

"I will never do that," Yari said, chuckling. "In fact, I hope we _will_ meet again...when I'm a little older."

He huffed, knowing he'd likely be long dead. "Well, if you are _that_ unlucky...then you can call me Emory."

"Emory?"

"My real name."

"Emory..." Yari said slowly, as if testing it, then smiled. "I like it. It suits you." He turned hesitantly towards the crack in the wall that led back to the streets. "I...guess I will see you, then?"

"Maybe," Ascal replied, giving the boy one last smile before watching him disappear back into the streets of Castle Town.

He remained in the little patch of snowy green for at least twenty minutes, until darkness fell, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to organise them into something resembling the division he'd once kept up effortlessly. Ascal _here_ , Emory _there_. Keeping them separate was the key, but no matter how hard he tried it all became a jumbled mess. He didn't like it. It made it difficult to keep to one agenda, one clear plan.

Why the fuck had he just given away all his money to Yari?

"This had better come together spectacularly," he said quietly to himself. "Or you're fucking _dead_ , mate."

For that smile, of course.

Growling, he left the little sanctuary Yari had shown him, and once again began stalking the streets. There were fewer people out now, making it easier to find a target. It didn't take very long, now that he could focus, keeping his mind on the hunger and the need to sate it.

A tavern, a rowdy group of drunken friends. One man excusing himself, needing to go home and see the family. Staggering through the slushy street, meandering from one side of the street to the other. Ascal smiled to himself. Easy explainable as having had too much, falling asleep outside. He wouldn't even have to worry about looking suspicious.

What? Me, officer? Just helping my friend here get home—too much of the pale ale, eh? Oh, don't worry, he'll get it from the missus, I'm sure!

A wave of pure ecstasy passed through him when his fangs pierced the man's neck and his blood flooded Ascal's mouth. The metallic tinge, the thick consistency, the way it coated everything it touched...there was nothing quite like it. The ache in his stomach settled the moment he swallowed, the fire beneath his skin dying down.

The man shuddered, pushing weakly at Ascal's shoulders, but the vampire held firm, biting down a little harder, willing the venom in his fangs to enter the man's system, to calm him down. It worked, and within seconds the man was practically clinging to him, panting slightly as Ascal drank deeply.

A fog around his mind that he hadn't even noticed settling there began to lift, leaving his thoughts just a little clearer. He already felt stronger, faster. His body slowly revitalised, the exhaustion that had worn him down almost disappearing completely.

He almost lost himself in the thrill of the feed, only realising that the man's heartbeat had begun to slow. Mournfully, he pulled his fangs out, satisfied to see the wounds closing almost immediately, stopping the bleeding. Cooing into the man's ear about what good little prey he was, he gave his neck a final lick, gathering up the last of the spilled blood. The man was barely even there, lost in the numbness of alcohol and Ascal's little injection. He guided the man to a nearby bench, made sure he was too out of it to realise what had just happened, and went on his way. He hesitated, realising the street was too empty.

Too much of a risk, but he did it anyway. He called for help as loudly as he could, satisfied when he heard the approaching thuds of watchmen's boots, and took off himself in the opposite direction, quickly leaving the area behind, blaming Emory once more for being a soft-hearted fool. Ascal would just have let the man freeze to death.

On his way back to the Temple, he felt rejuvenated, like a completely new man. He always did, after feeding. When he'd been running with Gideon, he had only fed when absolutely necessary, so he'd spent the first decades of his vampiric life constantly hungry, constantly weakened. He'd still kept up with his kin, though—even surpassed them. With the hunters...well, he'd settled for preying on animals, realising he wouldn't make any friends by occasionally snacking on random people. In Hyrule...he'd given in, let himself be consumed by the need for blood— _real_ blood. Then Jerewin had...had offered...and he'd never gone as long without feeding as he had now.

He missed it. Missed feeding regularly. Missed Jerewin. Wouldn't give it up again, ever.

They'd have to kill him first—and it'd take more than a bullet to the brain to finish the job this time.

He waited until the road outside the Temple was clear before approaching the door as he had the night before. He sniffed, smelling something familiar, and looked down. A small smudge of red on the wooden porch. Fresh. Someone had been bleeding here recently. He knocked on the door, already hearing the muffled voices within, which only became clearer when the same musclebound door guard peered out from the slit, grunting and opening the door for him.

There had been new arrivals in his absence. A pair of children he recognised all-too-easily based on the descriptions he'd been provided by Arthur. Sheik's little birds, as Dehl had called them.

The second Gerudo hunter, Ayla, was there too. Her leg was the source of the blood, a tightly bound piece of bandage around her thigh doing little to stem the bleeding. She looked pale and exhausted, and Ascal was willing to guess she'd been hurt for quite a while.

Then he picked up another familiar scent, one he hadn't expected to encounter so soon. Ayla was supporting herself against someone—a body that was noticeably slimmer than when Ascal had last seen it.

His breath hitched when, at the door closing behind him, every head in the entrance hall turned to him...including _those_ eyes, which lit up when they met his. He couldn't hide the gigantic smile that came to his lips at that moment, nor did he care that everyone could see. He drew a breath, tried to speak, but all that came out was a single word. A name.

"Jerewin..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter wasn't supposed to be so Ascal-centric, but... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	74. The Bite

For a long, seemingly endless moment, their eyes met. Ascal wasn't sure what sort of expression he had on his face—presumably one of bewildered surprise. He certainly hadn't expected to meet his young lord so suddenly—and in a brothel, of all places. How had he gotten here? _Why_ was he here? Had he escaped, somehow? Judging by how close he was standing to Sheik's little spies, Ascal assumed they had something to do with it...but why? Surely Jerewin would have been one of their targets, rather than someone to be rescued?

There was no mistaking the relieved smile that came to Jerewin's delicate features, however, no matter how small it was, or how marred his general appearance was by dirt and filth and blood (courtesy of Ayla), presumably a result of his time on the run. His mouth opened, but nothing came out...and even if it had, it would have been drowned out by the outraged shouts from Elenwe and Kaura, who had been greeting them.

"Where the hell have you been?!" demanded the Gerudo.

"Is that blood?" the physician asked, looking none-too-happy about Ascal having left.

Spell broken, Ascal looked down at his coat, wondering where she'd...oh. There was a rather large stain on his collar. He cursed inwardly—he'd taken a risk, leaving the man alive and only using his teeth to drain him, rather than a swift cut of a blade. Made containing the blood harder. "Ah," he said hesitantly, avoiding Jerewin's gaze. "Seems I made a mess of things, then."

"I'll say," Elenwe muttered sourly.

"Yours?" Kaura asked, though her tone suggested she did not expect a yes.

"No," Ascal replied. "And before you ask, no, the person whose veins _this_ belongs in is not dead." He had no problem admitting to murders and atrocities he'd _actually_ committed, but he drew the line at false accusations, which the hunters would love nothing more than to pin on him given half a chance. Better to head them off before they could their syrupy brain cells moving in anything that resembled a pattern of intelligence. "I even called for help on his behalf, in fact."

"How gracious of you," Kaura drawled, moving to take the limping Ayla from Jerewin's hold.

"I'm practically a saint, me," Ascal said, flashing the grin he knew everyone found nasty. Better to act normally, like the utterly repugnant individual he was, than to reveal just how shaken he was by the two unexpected events that had taken place tonight. First Yari, and now...

"Oh, yes, you'll be properly canonised at the new year's festival, I'm sure," the physician said, frowning down at Ayla's legs, already analysing the damage she could see without removing her trousers. "All right, you. Time to take a look at that leg."

"The boy too," Ayla forced out with a groan. "His hand..."

"All right," Kaura levelled a very sobering, intense stare at the young boy, whose hand was wrapped up firmly with bandages, his face covered in healing bruises. "Come along, boy."

"His name is Eren," the girl spy said, looking back at Kaura with an equally impressive gaze, eyes like flint. She moved in front of him, crossing her arms protectively. "And where he goes, I go," she continued.

Clearly fighting the urge to roll her eyes until they fell out of her skull, Kaura nodded and jerked her head towards the stairs. "Was about to suggest the same, girl," she said. "You need a proper check-up too, by the looks of you."

"And _him_?" Eren said, glaring at Ascal. "You're just letting him live?" He directed the question at Elenwe, who could do little but shrug helplessly.

"We need him, unfortunately."

"The Boss is going to kill him, right?"

Ascal decided not to chime in with the revelation of what their precious master had become under his watch, figuring that increased tension was the last thing they needed right now. And if that wasn't proper character growth, then he had no idea what could be.

"I'm not sure if he's decided yet," Elenwe replied, still looking helpless. She looked vaguely panicked in the face of the two children, like she was unsure of how to handle them. That was almost hilarious enough for Ascal to laugh. Almost. Again, tension. Character growth. Good Ascal, _good_. "You can ask him yourself, later."

"Where is he?" the girl asked, her voice unable to conceal her excitement. A crush, perhaps? Or just relief?

Keep your damn mouth shut, he had to tell himself. Be Ascal, not Emory!

"Upstairs, resting," Kaura supplied, already hauling Ayla up the first set of steps. "Now come on, or you can deal with the injuries on your own."

The two gave Ascal suspicious glances, and they only ceased when Elenwe stepped forward and put her hand on the grip of a pistol in her belt. "I'll keep an eye on them," she said, nodding to Ascal and Jerewin. She gave the door guard an uncertain look. "As will...?" she trailed off.

"Griff," the guard said, crossing his arms to provide an imposing-looking barrier. Ascal wondered if Griff knew the vampire could easily tear him to pieces with his bare hands, especially now that he was at nearly full strength. He'd certainly like to show him...

That seemed to satisfy the kids, though the tension did not leave their shoulders as they followed the physician up the stairs, leaving the four of them alone at the entrance.

He couldn't avoid it any longer. Ascal looked back into Jerewin's blue eyes, surprised to find them glassy and wet—but not with anger or sadness. Happiness, then? But why? Surely Jerewin would be angry, having suffered for Ascal's mistake of involving Dehl? The confusion increased further when the young lord stepped forward and put his arms around Ascal, slotting his head neatly beneath the vampire's chin.

Where it belongs, a traitorous thought in the very back of Ascal's head said. He quickly smothered it. That was no longer true. He'd never wanted it to be.

Haltingly, he put his own arms around the young man, pulling him in tight. Almost too tight, but Jerewin didn't seem to mind. And for the first time in months, Ascal found the weight on his shoulders lifting, just a little, as his main worry was finally alleviated. Jerewin was safe, Jerewin was out of Dehl's clutches.

"I was worried," Jerewin said quietly, just loud enough for Ascal to hear.

"Understandable," Ascal said with a huff. "Being under that woman's thumb—"

"About _you_ ," Jerewin corrected.

Ascal drew back, looking over his young lord at arm's length, wondering if he had hit his head at some point. Honestly, he'd expected a lot more tears and a runny nose, Jerewin clinging to him and bawling his eyes out, so happy to have gotten away from Dehl, but...there was none of that. Well, there was _some_ moisture in his eyes still, but an entirely new steely edge was visible in those blues of his, along with a tightness in his jaw that made him look determined. Then Jerewin surprised him even more by letting his eyes take in Ascal's appearance with a critical eye.

"You're thinner," he noted, ignoring Elenwe and Griff's presence entirely. "You haven't been eating, have you?"

"I was gone for longer than I anticipated," Ascal replied, utterly flabbergasted by the grilling he was receiving from a boy that had only been too happy to please him in the past, to listen to his every thought and idea. The boy he'd raised. "Food was...hard to come by."

Jerewin frowned, touching his neck. "Do you need—"

"Already taken care of," Ascal said hurriedly, not in the mood to explain.

"That's...good."

Elenwe cleared her throat, scratching her neck while looking anywhere but at them—the very picture of awkward. "Maybe you'll want to do this in private?" she suggested.

"Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on me?" Ascal asked with a raised eyebrow, not taking his hands off Jerewin's shoulders. If that was because he was afraid the young man would disappear if he let go, no one needed to know that.

"I don't think you'd be stupid enough to run off right now," the Gerudo said. "Remember, we've got a wolf to track you down."

"Wolf?" Jerewin asked, confused. "What do—"

"Long, bloody story of no interest right now," Ascal said quickly. "I assume both of our rooms are occupied right now, anyway," he said, honestly wishing he could be alone with Jerewin just for a few minutes.

He wanted— _needed_ —to know that his young lord was well, that Ascal's daughter hadn't done anything untoward. He could smell her scent on him, but that could easily have been caused by simple, close proximity rather than...that. Not even _she_ would be stupid enough to do something so...disrespectful, right? He already knew the answer, but he forced the reaction down, feigning disinterest until he found an appropriate time to release it all.

"They are, but the bar is empty," Elenwe said, gesturing towards the large room. She looked unimpressed as a loud snore immediately punctuated her sentence. "Mostly. In a minute, at least," she added reluctantly. "Wait a moment."

She went inside the bar, shutting the door behind her. A rather large show of trust on her part, since Ascal could easily sling Jerewin over his shoulder and run off, tearing through Griff like wet paper, but...he found an odd undercurrent in his chest that firmly told him to stay put, that he still had a job to do. Emory at work again, most likely.

Fucking Emory...

Then he heard the Gerudo shouting within, something about someone being lazy, and the door opened once more. A pair of very harried and exhausted hunters were hounded out of the bar—the Sheikah and the dark-skinned Hylian, both hungover to hell and back. They stumbled over their feet, their eyes bleary and with widened irises not nearly prepared for the onslaught of the gas-lighted hallway.

"You both reek," Elenwe said, right on their heels, shoving them down the hall, past the stairs. "In the baths, right now!"

"I want a divorce!" Kafei moaned, clinging to his fellow hunter as she guided them towards the bathing area of the brothel. Ascal couldn't disagree with Elenwe's decision—the stench of alcohol permeated every pore of their bodies, filling his nose unpleasantly.

"You'll thank me later, you ungrateful lout," Elenwe called after them, leaning against the wall and gesturing towards the empty bar. "All yours, vamp."

"Hey—"Jerewin began, looking offended, but Ascal simply steered him inside, nodding at Elenwe in silent appreciation before shutting the door behind them.

"Don't try anything stupid!" she called through the door, voice muffled.

Now there was an umbrella term for all the trouble he could cause inside this room, but as long as Jerewin was there, he wouldn't need to, would he?

His nose burned slightly at the smell of the strong spirits behind the bar, their corks doing little to spare him the scent...but that was fine. He'd always found it to be a rather pleasant sensation when the odour wasn't filtered through another person's body first. Drinking it wouldn't have much of an effect, of course, unless he had enough to kill an average man. One of the drawbacks of the Gift—one just couldn't get properly drunk without driving oneself to the poorhouse. He was due for a binge at this point, he felt.

Jerewin had a similar thought, it seemed, as he immediately went behind a bar and poured himself a very large tumbler of the strongest whiskey he could find. He downed nearly half of it in one go, coughing and leaning on the bar. Carefully, Ascal seated himself on the stool on the opposite side of it and, without thinking, reached forward to touch Jerewin's neck.

He didn't expect the young man to jerk back, covering it with both his hands, eyes widening considerably...and his pulse speeding up. Ascal heard it. A steady rhythm picking up the pace, not unlike a drum.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Jerewin said, realising what he'd done and lowering his head. "It's just...she...she—"

"Don't say it," Ascal said, gritting his teeth. "I know what she did."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Do not apologise," he said, his chest constricting just a little, like it had with Yari, but in a different way. "None of this is your fault—I should have known better than to involve her."

It was a terrible apology, and an even worse admission of guilt. His tone was all wrong; it didn't sound genuine. He had never quite gotten that down since the Studio. Remorse was...difficult, these days. He'd spent so long forcing himself not to feel it that, when he genuinely wanted it, it refused to come.

"It's my fault, though," Jerewin said, chuckling bitterly and gesturing widely. "All of this...my fault."

Ascal bit his lip for a moment. He hadn't expected this particular discussion to come up so soon. Had hoped his absence hadn't lasted _that_ long...but when he thought about it, the number of months...it made sense. The numbers were certainly correct. Well, perhaps he hadn't _expected_ as much as he'd _hoped_ this moment wouldn't come up just yet. He would have liked more time, to enjoy the feeling of contentment at knowing Jerewin was safe, before it all came crashing down for the fourth goddamn time in his exhaustingly long life.

"It's not," he said firmly, taking Jerewin's wrist and tugging him forward, until they were facing each other over the bar, their noses a few inches apart. "It's not your fault."

"It is," Jerewin said, his voice rough from the whiskey and the budding despair Ascal knew would have been building up for the past few days, when the...enchantment would have begun to wear off.

He really had no better word for it. None of the walkers did. Just like none of them understood the exact composition of the liquid produced and stored within their fangs. In the past, it was described as magic, but that was a ridiculous thought today. Ascal had theorised before that it was a complicated mix of chemical dependency and the utterly baffling mortal psyche, coupled with the willingness for them to submit the very thing that kept them alive to a walker. Some sort of evolutionary trait that could possibly one day have led to the walkers being the dominant species...had it not been for someone like Emory, who'd taken it upon himself to reduce said species to the point where it no longer posed a threat.

Despite his problems with the person he had once been, Ascal never disagreed with Emory on that particular point. Walkers were better off in smaller numbers. It kept the risk of discovery down, and the strict territorial division kept them from fighting amongst themselves. Someone like Gideon would _not_ have thrived under such conditions...and those were exactly what Emory had sought to cultivate.

He shook his head, realising his train of thought was heading in a completely different direction than he'd intended—damn memories—and focused back on Jerewin's face, who was utterly confused, lips moving silently, surely proclaiming his guilt...and Ascal couldn't bear it. He slammed his fist onto the bar.

"Damn it, Jerewin, it's not your fault and it never was!" he shouted. "They were all my ideas!"

Well, perhaps not the root ideas...but the execution and refinement certainly were. Hyrule had needed new economic blood, new ways to raise money. Jerewin had suggested doing something about the overpopulation, find ways to make them useful. Of course, at this point he had been out of his mind, both from blood loss and the wonderful chemicals from Ascal flowing through his veins...and Ascal's mind had taken that metaphorical ball and dribbled away with it.

Indentured servitude. A wonderful term for slavery, so sneaky it could easily be added to legislature without anyone batting an eye. The Crown receives money, and provides a worker to pay off that debt—the period depending on the sum. If a few of these workers disappeared or were killed through unfortunate accidents...well, that's a pity, because the worker's wellbeing was the responsibility of the lender in the first place. It would have been such a wonderful way to deal with Hyrule's unnecessary, layabout population. Ascal had even patted himself on the back for coming up with it—it would even open up trade with the southern realms, who had a more...relaxed attitude to it all.

Jerewin had leapt at the idea...but then, anyone else whose brains were marinated in such a potent cocktail would have, too. Hell, he would have even without it, after so many years of being the young lord's confidante and guardian. Because if there was one thing Jerewin Camdessus craved, it was validation. Maybe even attention—his father had certainly not provided either. Truthfully, Jerewin had agreed to a number of Ascal's suggestions and ideas over the years, because his mind simply wouldn't allow him not to.

Emory would have been horrified. Emory _was_ horrified. It was effectively brainwashing. Donors didn't have much of a say in what they did beyond the first time they bared their neck for their masters—the only thing that could break that sort of...of spell (as loathe as he was to call it that) was time and separation. Dehl could have put a wrench into it, of course, but then she clearly hadn't been _given_ Jerewin's blood—she'd _taken_ it. The dynamics seemed to change in such situations, but Ascal had never been able to figure it out. Some things were just beyond science as it stood right now...perhaps in a few centuries...

"Ascal? Ascal, are you all right?"

He hadn't realised he had stopped breathing, and released the air that had been burning his lungs. Strange, how such a sensation persisted even after breathing was, strictly, no longer necessary. Well, unless he wanted to remain conscious, that is. A walker's body still had some annoying contrivances that made no sense to him.

"I'm...fine," he said, looking at the lacquered wood of the bar.

"What did you mean...when you said all the ideas were yours?" Jerewin asked carefully, clearly worried he'd set Ascal off again.

Ascal chuckled bitterly. "Exactly what I said," he said. "The slavers? The indentured servitude? All mine. I developed them, and fed them to you gently until you thought they were your own—until all you wanted to was to implement them, because you knew it would make me happy."

It was another form of slavery, but a blissfully unaware one for the donor. A young man's face appeared before his mind's eye, and Ascal tried not to let his thoughts drift back to Renard. Had _he_ known what he was letting the vampires do to him?

Damn it, the boy was long dead, what did it _matter_?! And wasn't it hypocritical to worry about that now, long after he himself had partaken in the boy's willingness to share his essence?

Jerewin's face was a careful mask of neutrality, his wrist slipping from Ascal's limp grasp. "I...don't understand," he said, but Ascal saw the understanding dawning in his eyes even as he spoke, the horrified realisation.

"Yes, you do," he supplied. "Everything I ever said made sense, everything I suggested was the best idea you had heard in years. Not all of them were bad, but...I knew exactly what I was doing."

Jerewin closed his eyes, backing away until he was leaning against the shelves of booze behind him. "Everything was a blur, a fog...I could barely remember anything until a few days ago..."

Ascal nodded. Why was he doing this? Why was he revealing everything he'd been hoping to keep from Jerewin until he died a content old man, possibly surrounded by a family that actually cared about him? Fucking sentiment, the bane of his damned existence!

"Every time I fed, I put something in you, something that calmed you down, that made you feel good," he said. "You got used to it...addicted to it. You'd do anything to please me, to receive more of it. It would have worn off around a week ago, and things would get...clearer."

"That...I don't understand," Jerewin said, eyes still shut, his face pale. "But I...I helped the spies on my own!"

"Because you thought it would help you get to me, one way or another," Ascal said. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. His chest was constricting more and more, and right now all he wanted was to go out and _kill_ something. Preferably Emory, or Gideon again, but either option was impossible, so he had to remain seated there, at the bar, watching Jerewin slowly digest and reject what he had just been told. "Jerewin..."

"You bastard!" Jerewin shouted, slamming his palms onto the bar, the sound impossibly loud in the padded, empty room. "You knew?!"

"Hard not to realise after a few hundred years, you know?"

It was definitely the wrong thing to say, but at this point Ascal figured he had nothing left to lose...and he'd always had a bit of a smart mouth anyway.

Rivea would have laughed.

Shut up!

"You...you made me a slave," Jerewin said, horror and anger dancing across his face in equal measure, unable to comprehend just what the man he'd trusted most in the world had done to him. "And you knew!"

"You gave yourself to me willingly," Ascal reminded him.

* * *

_"What's wrong?"_

_"N-nothing, just leave me be, my lord."_

_"You're suffering!" A body, so small, climbing into his bed. Hands encircling his neck, playing with his hair. "Tell me what I can do to make it better!"_

_A harsh chuckle, hands roaming the boy's back, patting it gently while also trying to push him away. The temptation is too great, too easy to give in to. "Nothing you can do, my lord. What I need...is not something you should give away."_

_"Ascal, please!"_

_"I only obey commands from—"_

_"As your future lord, I_ order _you to tell me what it is!"_

_So weak. Too weak. And what was the harm, truly? All he needed was a little...just to get by. Just to gain the strength to get up, to go out. Another chuckle, shaky fingers gently roaming the expanse of pale, unmarred flesh beneath a jaw that had yet to lose all its baby fat. A harshly drawn breath._

_"I need..."_

* * *

Jerewin's breaths came in short bursts, his heart hammering in his chest. Ascal wished it didn't. He wished this conversation had never been necessary, but...it was, wasn't it? Since he'd left Hyrule, he'd told himself all he did was for Jerewin. For Jerewin's future. So, letting him remain ignorant of the ramifications of Ascal's single moment of weakness, so long ago...it was unfair, in a way not even Ascal could ignore, as much as he wanted to.

"The throne," the young lord said, drawing the vampire's attention back to the present, away from the night he had revealed his true nature. "You...that was your idea too, wasn't it?"

Ascal nodded. "It struck me when I found out the princess was with the Sheikah and his friend. You readily agreed, as I recall—"

"And then you brought in _her_ ," Jerewin hissed. "That...that—"

"Bitch?" Ascal suggested.

"Monster," the Hylian corrected. "You said you trusted her, that she was reliable—"

"I thought she was," Ascal defended himself, feeble as it was. "I didn't think my own daughter—"

"Daughter?!" Jerewin screeched, backing away from the bar once more, this time emptying the rest of the tumbler and filling it right back up. Ascal considered stopping him, knowing that Jerewin was a lightweight...but then, who was he to criticise someone's coping mechanism?

"Daughter in that I am the one who turned her," Ascal said calmly. "And right now I thoroughly regret doing it." He stood up, swiftly taking the bottle away from Jerewin when he attempted to fill his glass a third time. "That's enough—the last thing you need right now is to be drunk."

"Oh, you want me euphoric instead, do you?" the Hylian said, pulling his collar down and revealing his neck, the same soft flesh Ascal had sunk his fangs into so many times over the years. "Utterly elated on whatever filth you produce! Go ahead, then!"

The vampire remained silent, didn't rise to the challenge. Nothing would please him more than to go back to what had once been—Jerewin pliant and malleable, so eager to please, and Ascal ready to give him the world if he could. But that time had come and gone...and perhaps that was for the best. He could never be the same Ascal that had looked after Jerewin when his father had barely paid him any attention, the Ascal that would willingly topple a government and royal family just to see the one person he gave any kinds of shit about happy and safe and powerful...

Because he wasn't Ascal anymore. He wasn't Emory either. And Phaeron...well, he could barely remember who Phaeron had been.

So who the hell am I?

Someone new, I suppose.

But still a monster.

Never forget that.

The tears were sliding down Jerewin's face now in big, ugly globs. His nose was running, and he wiped it on his sleeve. Jerewin had always been an ugly crier... Even now, it tugged at Ascal's heart, to see the boy so miserable.

"I'm...alone..." Jerewin said, voice hoarse from the whiskey and crying both.

There was only so much Ascal could take. Dropping the bottle and ignoring the sound of it smashing on the floor, he hauled himself across the bar and pulled Jerewin into a tight embrace, just as desperate as before. The young lord struggled at first, tried to pull away, begging the vampire to release him, but Ascal held on, settling one hand at the back of Jerewin's neck, letting his fingers thread through the dirty, matted hair he had once been so meticulous about.

"I'm sorry, Jerewin," he said, surprised to find that he actually _meant_ it. "I am so, so sorry..."

"I hate you," Jerewin muttered into the fabric of his coat, but ceasing his struggling anyway, soon clinging to Ascal, crying silently.

"I know, _liebchen_ ," Ascal said, rubbing the boy's neck. "I know..."

* * *

Link was awake. His entire body ached far too much to go back to sleep...and even if it didn't, he wouldn't be able to when his mate was suffering. He wasn't sure if this was because of some weird bond that the Beast insisted he sense, or if he simply loved Sheik so much that he could almost feel his lover's pain, but...he, too, was hurting from what was happening to the Sheikah.

Sheik had passed out soon after their promise to each other, to be monsters together. Link had tried to make him comfortable on the bed, but soon enough Sheik was tossing and turning in his sleep, his temperature rising and lowering like a broken thermometer. It was the turning, most likely...or perhaps hunger? Link knew nothing about vampires other than the little information he'd been given by the other hunters. It seemed that this particular type of beast had been sorely lacking in their education and experience.

Sheik kept grinding his teeth, and Link wondered if he was experiencing something similar to when _he_ had been turning, when the Beast was rearranging and changing his teeth to fit better in the mouth of a wolf. That had been miserable, he remembered. Itching and stinging and burning...and nothing to do about it!

And Sheik wouldn't wake, either. The process of being turned must have been traumatic, painful. Link could barely remember what had happened—all he knew was that Sheik had been shot...and then Link had woken up in the sewers, surrounded by bodies and...and... Even thinking about it made him shudder with disgust. He could still taste the blood...

He hated this. Hated that he couldn't help, that he couldn't make the pain and discomfort go away. All he wanted was for his mate to be well, for his entire pack to...to be safe.

Because they were, weren't they? His pack. He could keep denying it, but it would still remain true. The Beast rumbled with satisfaction, for which it was banished to the very depths of his mind. He didn't want it there...and it certainly wasn't allowed to judge him! This was still his body, damn it! Another rumble, and then silence. He'd won. For now.

Sheik shifted, and Link made sure to encircle his mate as much as he could, hoping to trap Sheik in a cocoon of comforting heat and pressure, one of safety and peace. It didn't work, Sheik kept turning, mumbling unintelligible words and sentences, none of them good judging by the tone. Fear kept rolling off him in waves, his scent a far cry from what it _should_ be!

Link had been surprised when he'd first woken up, and not recognised his mate's scent right away. It had changed, in ways both perceptible and not. There was a...metallic tang to Sheik's scent now, not unlike blood, but not the sort that set Link's nerves aquiver, nor one that invoked and drew the Beast. It had taken him a moment (that must have been an eternity to Sheik), but he'd smelled that, beneath it, there was still the spicy scent that Link had come to identify his mate with...the scent that belonged with _him_ , and no one else. Nothing like Ascal's. Ascal smelled like _death_. Link had no idea what he had done to acquire such a stench. Well, he had a feeling, but...

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Sheik mumbling again, and this time Link drew slightly back, turning his head for his sensitive ears to pick up as much of the sound as possible, hoping to decipher some sort of meaning from it. He didn't expect what happened next.

Sheik's nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath, and his eyes flew open. For a moment, there was more gold than red in his pupils, and a trembling groan issued from the Sheikah's throat, his entire body shivering. There was a wet squelching sound, a pained sound from his mate, and the smell of blood was suddenly everywhere, invading Link's nose. It streamed from Sheik's mouth, and when his mate opened his mouth further to moan in pain, Link saw them.

Sheik's fangs were slotted neatly behind his regular canines, looking almost like natural extensions of the teeth meant for biting and tearing, but infinitely sharper. Meant to puncture. Blood streamed from the roof of his mouth, and little bits of white flowed with it. Bone. The teeth had broken _through_ his _skull_! It was no wonder Sheik was in pain, but why—

Before Link could offer another thought, he felt those same fangs sink into his neck. He let out a whimper, trying to push Sheik away, but he was much stronger than before, clinging to him like a barnacle, refusing to let go. Then he felt the pressure around the bite increase, as Sheik started sucking, drawing out more blood, and the pain increased tenfold...but it also felt...good? A feeling of relaxation came over him, and suddenly he didn't feel much of a need to fight back. In fact, letting Sheik continue actually seemed like a good idea...after all, his mate needed blood now, to survive, so...why shouldn't Link offer his?

The Beast rumbled, urging him to struggle. An Alpha does not give in! Does not give up what is theirs freely!

But surely...to their mate...

He whined again, hoping Sheik would realise what he was doing, but the Sheikah's eyes were closed, a look of euphoria passing over his face, like tasting Link's blood was the biggest pleasure he'd ever experienced.

He tried to struggle, but found that he didn't want to. He wanted Sheik to sate himself, to fill up so he could grow strong!

He was only dimly aware of the door slamming open, and someone gasping and suddenly shouting. Several voices joined the first, and soon enough there were hands everywhere, grabbing and pulling and pushing. Sheik's teeth were forcibly pulled away, and Link felt the familiar itch of the wounds immediately beginning to close, even faster than his healing ability could offer.

"...Link...you...hear me?"

A shape was waving its hands in his eyes, and Link could only stare in confusion as the blurry image slowly coalesced into something resembling a face. White blonde...one eye obscured by cloth...

"Link!"

Link turned his head back, hoping to angle it so Sheik could latch back on, but the Sheikah was gone. That was...upsetting, but Link couldn't find the strength to do anything about it. Really, sleep sounded damn good right about now. Another face had joined the first in trying to get his attention, and this time he felt the sharp slap of a palm striking his cheek, the colour purple bobbing in and out of view. This voice was harsher, more authoritative.

"...up, you fu...idiot! _Don't_...asleep!"

Well, fuck you too, Link thought. I _am_ going to sleep!

And so he did, to the tune of many voices shouting at each other in panic. But the one he heard clearest of all was that of his mate, calling over and over.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Don't be, Link thought as he drifted away with a contented smile. We're monsters, after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **More misery for everyone!**


	75. The Venom

"You know, for a bunch of mean, tough hunters of beasts, you lot sure spend a lot of your time passed out, drunk, or injured."

Sheik glared at the physician, refusing to dignify her glib remark with an answer. She continued to poke and prod at him, drawing blood and generally making a nuisance of herself when Sheik had far more important matters to attend to. Such as making sure Link was all right. They'd already told him he was, but he refused to believe it until he actually saw it for himself. It _really_ didn't help that Ascal, being his usual self, was holding him down, using his superior strength to keep him from moving too much while the doctor had her way with him.

_And stopping me from attacking anyone,_ he told himself bitterly.

He hadn't mean to. When he'd woken from his restless nightmares, he'd been too confused to realise what was happening. His skin had been on fire, his mouth absolutely agonised, vision blurry. His mind had moved like molasses...and then he'd caught the scent. The overwhelming, mouth-watering scent of...of everything. Of Link, of the blood rushing through his alpha's veins, of must...it had been too much, he couldn't stop himself.

The pain of his fangs erupting through the roof of his mouth had been indescribable, but all thoughts of it disappeared the moment he'd bitten into Link's neck, and the first drop of his lover's blood had touched his tongue. The taste had been...unbelievable. Impossible to even begin describing, his thoughts unable or refusing to quantify _why_ it tasted better than everything he'd ever had in his life. The fire in his skin had died down in moments, his head growing clearer with every mouthful. The pain had gone, the discomfort lessening considerably. He'd even _moaned_...

He'd only been vaguely aware of Link whimpering and trying to push him away, but his actions had held no meaning, no purpose. All Sheik could think about was how good he felt, how _right_ it was to be like this, biting into someone's skin, his fangs pulsing as _something_ was simultaneously being pumped into the delicious neck beneath him, the increasingly lessening struggles of Link as...as...

He closed his eyes, shuddering. Kaura paused her ministrations for a moment, before continuing...albeit a little gentler. "He's fine," she said. "Just sleeping...and quite a bit more restful than before, I might add."

"That'll be the venom," Ascal added. Usually, a comment like that would be accompanied by an annoying smirk, like this was all just a big, amusing play for him. Now, however, he simply looked tired, which was quite unusual...but then, apparently, the reunion with Lord Camdessus had been anything but ideal. "It has quite a few beneficial properties, aside from the general euphoria. Induces a dreamless sleep, even."

"I'd like a sample of this venom," Kaura said. It wasn't a request. it was a demand, and to Sheik's surprise Ascal simply nodded in agreement.

"Just give me a vial," he said, readjusting his grip on Sheik's wrists, easing off the pressure a little. "It'd be interesting to hear what you make of it."

"Oh?" the physician said in a surprised tone. "Suddenly willing to share your kind's secrets now, are you?" She slid an empty vial into the pocket of his waistcoat.

"I fail to see what possible detrimental effects it could have on me or my fellow walkers for you to know exactly what we are injecting our donors with," he replied smoothly, giving Sheik a cheeky wink, as if he was sharing some sort of joke. Sheik simply glared back.

Bad enough that he'd accidentally fed off and hurt Link, but apparently Ayla was injured too, and Eren and Nikal had been brought back with Lord Camdessus—and they refused to let him see them! They'd even borne witness to the chaos immediately following the accidental feeding, how they'd had to physically pull him off Link. They wouldn't even tell him how they'd reacted!

"Easy there, little brother," Ascal said when he felt Sheik's muscles twitching under his grip, the feeling of a body preparing to attack. "I am not your enemy here."

"You've always been my enemy," Sheik spat. "Nothing will make me happier than putting you in the ground where you belong!"

"Well, that's good to hear," Kaura muttered.

"And I'll look forward to the attempt," Ascal replied. "But right now, I need you to cooperate. If not for my sake, then for yours, in that you need to prove to your...friends...that you're not the rabid beast you appeared to be when they found you trying to drain Wolfy." He gave the Sheikah a disapproving look. "Such lack of control is unbecoming of my kin, regardless of how young you are—"

"I am not your kin!" He tried to tear loose from Ascal's grip, but the elder vampire was impossibly stronger, easily holding him down with an amused chuckle. Kaura cursed under her breath, pulling back an empty syringe just as she'd tried to take another syringe.

"Will you stop antagonising him?" she demanded. "You're making this very difficult!"

"Apologies, my good doctor," Ascal said lightly. "But he is simply too much fun to bother like this."

Kaura gave Sheik a look mixed with sympathy, annoyance, and something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't fear (because if there was one thing he was convinced Doctor Kaura never felt, it was fear), but something akin to...wariness, perhaps even worry. Wariness of him, because of what he'd become and she had no idea what he was capable of, or worry for what he might do if he breaks free...?

"I don't want your apologies," she said shortly, taking the calm moment to draw another syringe of Sheik's blood, the corners of her mouth turning down at the extremely dark colour of it. Sheik could barely stand looking at it himself. "Just stop pissing him off, please."

"Impossible," Sheik said. "He's still in here."

Kaura's frowned turned more severe as she carefully put the vial away, and picked up something that looked like a very small magnifying glass, with the lens jutting out a bit more than usual. "For increased magnification on a small area," she explained, as if sensing the question in Sheik's head. "I want to look at your eyes."

"He doesn't need to hold me down," Sheik said for what was surely the fiftieth time in the past hour. "I won't attack you, I promise."

"Your cousin's orders," Kaura said with a shrug.

"My cousin can go f—gah!"

"Oops, butterfingers, me," Ascal said, looking innocent.

It was the lack of trust that hurt the most. Well, that, and the fact that Sheik knew, if their roles were reversed, he'd probably the exact same thing as Kafei. Or any of the others, for that matter. No matter how much he felt like his old self, or believed that nothing had changed, he was no longer the same. In a matter of hours, he had become something dangerous and unpredictable, the same creature the monster who'd taken everything from them was. Had Kafei been the one to be turned, Sheik would have had a very difficult time accepting it.

Elenwe had assured him that it was his actions that defined him, and...well, they certainly had, hadn't they? He couldn't even share a bed with his lover without attacking him, like all Link was to him was a portable food supply. Even if what Ascal said was true, that their fangs injected some sort of sedative that made the bitten individual feel euphoric, the fact still remained that he'd attacked Link. He'd...he'd consumed his _blood_!

It made him feel sick, but no matter how hard he'd tried at first, he couldn't bring it back up, couldn't stick his finger down his throat, because his body refused to follow his commands. It needed the sustenance. It _demanded_ it. And now it was too late...his body was growing stronger and stronger, and his feverish state after being turned was diminishing.

"That'll do for now," Kaura announced after giving Sheik's eyes a quick examination with the magnifying glass. "You seem to be responding normally...and your mental faculties seem to be restored."

"His hunger was the motivator," Ascal piped up. "Now that it has been satisfied, he is no longer of any danger to anyone but himself...and possibly me, but then that's nothing new." He tapped his forehead. "I Still have fond memories of our first meeting."

"Want to do a re-enactment?" Sheik suggested nastily. "I'm sure I could convince Kafei to give me a pistol, if it's meant for _you_."

"Why bother with guns when you can use your bare hands?"

"Oh, I will—"

"Enough!" Kaura said, raising her voice. "You're both acting like children, and I expect better from _you_ ," she looked balefully at Sheik, who felt himself involuntarily shrinking a little under her gaze. Still terrifying, even now. "You're _much_ better than this."

Ascal pouted. "And me?"

"If you're as old as you claim you are, then you're a lost cause," she said sharply. "I don't waste my time on those."

"Like a dagger to the heart," the elder vampire said, mock-hurt lacing his voice. There was none of the usual energy or frivolity in him, though. It was like he was simply reading everything he said off a script; not monotonously, but not with nearly the same gusto as before. Sheik found it unnerving, and then confused.

"I'll go talk to the others," Kaura announced as she packed her equipment away. "Finish my work on Ayla's leg, which you so rudely interrupted."

Sheik lowered his head.

"Not that she'll have suffered for it, mind you, other than from boredom," the physician added. "You," she said, addressing Ascal, "keep an eye on him."

"Only if you'll—"

"Examine your young lord, yes, yes, I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "As if I intend to let anyone escape my watchful eyes."

"How are Eren and Nikal?" Sheik asked, again feeling like he'd repeated the question forty-nine times already. "Can I see them?"

"Maybe later, once I've finished with them," Kaura said. "Eren's hand needs some tending to, after what they did to him."

Sheik glared at Ascal. He'd only gotten a very brief description of Eren's injuries, but that alone had been enough to fill him with white-hot rage, and the beginning of a very extensive list of what he intended to do to Dehl when he got his hands on her. It was rapidly reaching the same length as Ascal's, in fact. For all the misery it was causing, this vampirism thing certainly opened many doors in terms of what pain he could cause _others_...

"There's that look again," Ascal said as the doctor cleared the baths, carefully letting go of Sheik's limbs and stepping back, his boot heels clicking against the tiled floor. It had been the only room they could take him to, on account of the others being occupied. "You're planning something horrible, aren't you?"

"Only on following the old adage of an eye for an eye," Sheik said, pushing himself away until he was curled up in the corner of the large room, as far away from Ascal as he could imagine. They were separated by the large, raised pool in the middle of the room, meant for letting several people bathe at once. "And believe me, I have plenty of ideas for that."

"Would it kill you to focus on Dehl before me?" Ascal suggested. "Beauty before age, and all that?"

"Pretty sure it's the other way around...but I won't have you feeling left out, don't worry," Sheik assured him. A pair of pliers would definitely be needed. "Maybe I'll even bring in Lord Camdessus so he can watch? I heard he's not terribly happy with your right now..."

Ascal's face went terribly still at the mention of the Hylian lord's name, but he did nothing other than perch himself on the edge of the pool, dipping his hand into the heated, slightly murky water. Kafei and Tira had been soaking here, apparently, but Sheik's rather rude awakening had put an end to it. The room smelled faintly of sweat and day-old booze. They'd been drinking, shortly after learning about Sheik's condition.

_Again, cousin, I'd have done the same in your shoes,_ Sheik thought, wishing he could get the memory of Kafei's utterly enraged face out of his mind. It was never a look he'd expected to be directed at _him_ , and the pain still made his heart seize up.

Heh, heart...what was even the point of it, if he was now undead?

"Lord Camdessus is...rather upset, yes, but that is no wonder," Ascal said, breaking through Sheik's reverie. "After all, learning that he's been more or less acting unknowingly based on my wishes and thoughts and words for the past decade and a half is...not a cause for celebration."

Sheik looked at him. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. More lies?

Ascal opened his mouth, his fangs locking into place behind his canines. He tapped one of them with his index finger (thankfully not the one he'd dipped into the bathwater, or Sheik might have vomited), and made a humming noise. "This venom of ours...a rather interesting chemical. It induces a state of rapture to those who allow themselves to be fed on, a sedative to those unaware, and...well, sheer panic in those who know and struggle." As he spoke, he tapped the fang again, and Sheik could see a small bead of liquid growing at the tip of it. "Have you ever heard of morphine?" he asked Sheik, who nodded.

"It's an anaesthetic," he replied.

"Indeed, and also a powerful narcotic, used for dulling the sensation of pain," Ascal said. "However, taken on its own, it makes the user feel quite...nice. Happy. Carefree. Wonderful." He frowned. "But then, take it too often, and one's body begins to grow dependent on it, needing it to function normally. It becomes an addiction." He flicked his fangs away, moving his jaw. "Our venom works very much in the same way—feed often enough on the same individual, and they grow dependent on it. The state of euphoria and pliancy becomes longer and longer, and soon enough they will do anything for another hit. They don't care what they have to do, as long as they get it."

Sheik had raised his hands to his own mouth now, eyes wide. "You...Camdessus is—"

"I have been feeding on Jerewin since he was twelve," Ascal said, his voice dull. "My absence gave his body time to flush the venom out of his system, and...well, now that he knows, he is not happy with me. Which is...understandable." He laughed humourlessly. "And now he realises the ramifications of letting a vampire dictate most of his actions since taking over his father's lordship."

_Is there nothing in this damn world that can remain even somewhat normal?_ Sheik wondered, feeling previously unknown muscles flexing just behind his normal teeth, the ones that would lock his fangs into place now that they'd burst through his skull, a sensation he'd never be able to forget—not for the pain, but for the sheer wrongness of it. "So...everything he's done...?" he asked slowly.

"Started with a genuine wish to develop Hyrule into an economic power," Ascal said, lying down on the rim of the pool, staring up at the roof, voice reverberating slightly against the tiles. "And I supplied the ideas for easy profit. All for his benefit, of course."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Sheik couldn't help but snarl slightly.

"It's true," Ascal said, no fight left in his words. "Ever since I came to Hyrule, my life has revolved around the service of the Camdessus family...especially Jerewin. Everything I've done for the last twenty-nine years has been for his benefit." He sat up, pinning Sheik with an intense look. "Take you, for example. Had my plan for you, Wolfy, and the princess succeeded, Jerewin would easily have become the new ruler of Hyrule—if not the king, then some sort of minister. He would have been set for life."

"Ruined that just fine on your own, though," Sheik said, the sense of victory disappointingly small, even as Ascal scowled. "Involving that _lovely_ daughter of yours..."

"No need to remind me," the elder vampire said, lying back down on the rim. "She will be dealt with." He hummed again, a series of tones going up and down in no discernible pattern. Just meaningless sounds, really. "Granted, the slavers were a mistake..."

"I'm certain Link will be happy to hear that," Sheik said, remembering the attack on Ordon, the death of Link's father, his mother... "There is nothing like having one's life ruined over a mistake."

"He seems to be dealing with it well enough," Ascal retorted. "He gets to fuck you, after all."

Sheik snorted at the vulgarity. Never mind that they had gone...that far...yet. "You are without a doubt the biggest arsehole I've ever met."

"Thank you, I do try."

Sheik frowned and looked down at the slightly yellowed tiles for a moment, chewing his lip. "So, you came to Hyrule after leaving the Studio..."

Now it was Ascal who snorted. "Another history lesson so soon, _liebchen_?"

"Have to know my enemies to destroy them," Sheik replied, grimacing. "And stop calling me that. What does it even mean?"

Ascal took a long moment to answer that, his body nearly frozen. "I...wasn't really aware I was calling you that," he said lamely. "It's a word from the language I spoke when I was still human."

_How on earth can you not notice what you're_ saying _to people?_ Sheik thought, rolling his eyes. "And?"

"It means _sweetheart_ , if you must know," Ascal said through gritted teeth, as if it were a struggle. "It was something that I...that _Emory_ used to call people." He huffed, a sound stuck between a laugh and a groan. "People he cared about. Forcing myself to remember...it's causing me to slip back into his habits. My apologies, I will try not to do it in the future."

Sheik's mouth had fallen open slightly at the revelation of the word, but he quickly tried to cover it up with a cough. And then his damned curiosity got the better of him. "Did you call my grandmother that?" he asked.

"Your grandmother...your mother...your aunt," Ascal rattled off. "Jerewin, when he was a child...old habits die very hard."

"I am not a child, though," Sheik said.

Ascal looked at him then, his eyes roaming his form, nodding to himself. "To me, you are."

Sheik didn't need to poke and prod to read what he'd really meant with that sentence:

_To me, now, you are_ my _child..._

* * *

Dehl paced back and forth in front of the standing mirror in her chambers, thoughtfully provided to her by the still-missing Lord Camdessus.

Really, a _lot_ of people had gone missing lately. The hunters had all but disappeared without a trace, surely hiding somewhere in the city, plotting against her. But now they'd played all their cards—she'd failed to notice their wolfos, but that problem had taken care of itself. Given their reluctance to show themselves again, she was certain they had no more tricks to play, and all they had left was to hope she'd expose herself accidentally, or show some vulnerability they could take advantage of.

She had no intention of making it easy for them.

But right now, her attention wasn't on the hunters. Not entirely, at least. She kept looking down at the sheaf of papers in her hands. Trade agreements, alliance proposals, labour contracts, all signed in Jerewin Camdessus' meticulous hand, and sealed with the Camdessus seal. The wax was still warm on the most recent envelope she'd done.

His signature had taken some work to imitate, but she'd managed to do passable ones for the most pressing matters, albeit slightly shaky...but that made sense, given the young lord's rather dreadful current condition, caused by a wasting disease that had him mostly bedridden, forcing him to send his most trusted aide and confidante in his stead to the council meeting that was to be held the following day...or so the official story would be, of course.

No one knew that Jerewin Camdessus was, in fact, gone; spirited away by the pair of spies he'd released from his own dungeons some time ago. For all Dehl knew, the young lord was dead, betrayed by the little spies, body hidden in some out-of-the-way nook or cranny. That'd be quite good, in fact. It'd make it easier to keep toeing the line, knowing the lord wouldn't pop up out of nowhere and ruin everything.

That's right, she thought. Just stay in whatever miserable hole you're hiding in.

Whatever the hunters were up to didn't matter either. They had no way of moving freely through the streets. Not with the Watch actively looking for them. As soon as they took a single step out of line, she'd be on them...and this time she wouldn't stop until she'd cut their throats herself. The young Sheikah, the little spies' master, was quite cute. He'd make a good little plaything for a while, if he'd lived through the ambush at the cistern.

Honestly, the only individual she feared among her current enemies was her father. Ascal had yet to show his face again after the attack, and that was not his style. Ascal always preferred the quick and brutal approach to solving problems, regardless of its nature. She'd half-expected him to come storming through the gates of the Camdessus mansion the moment he set foot inside the city (a foolish thing given the amount of armed guards she kept around the place, of course), but no such thing had occurred, not even after the way she'd humiliated him at the cistern.

Perhaps he really _was_ growing old. He'd certainly seemed different at the cistern. He'd conversed with the Sheikah and the wolfos, even, which was unusual. Idle chatter was not Ascal's forte...at least not with her.

She scowled. As if that man could actually befriend someone. The thought was laughable.

She glanced at her papers again and placed them carefully on her desk. She'd already chosen the conservative, official-looking outfit (in black, of course) she'd wear as Camdessus' representative at the meeting, knowing she had to appear confident and very much in control of the situation, acting on her master's orders. The council members, most of whom had been put in their positions thanks to her little...clean-up, would certainly not find it difficult to take her words at face value—the signatures and seals were only formalities to make things official.

Avi would be with her, of course, as her escort. That was more comforting than she'd thought it would be. The man was very capable, if somewhat unrefined. In a fight he was an unstoppable wall. Coupled with the dozen or so men she was allowed to bring for security purposes (the same number as the other council members), she'd be quite well-covered.

She had no reason to worry, and once this council meeting was over, she could focus on hunting the hunters (haha) and her beloved father down, and finish them off. Perhaps little Jerewin would appear too, at some point, and she could close the loop. She'd need him alive, of course, just in case, but the young lord would never again be allowed to leave his chambers, even if she had to chain him down.

* * *

Even though no one had told him who he was, Lor had no trouble recognising Lord Jerewin Camdessus the second he entered the bar area. He'd intended to fetch a bottle of brandy for himself, Ard, and René, whom they'd spent the day with, holed up in her office, to ward off the chill.

It had been too much. Having to work in close proximity with Ascal, Link getting injured while he turned into an actual wolf monster, and then Sheik...Sheik... His best friend, the only person he'd felt he could count on for so long, made a monster, just like Ascal— _by_ Ascal! He hadn't meant to get so angry, and certainly not at _him_ , but his mouth had moved without consulting his brain, and he'd seen the hurt cross the Sheikah's face before it was locked away.

He'd had to leave, otherwise he was sure he'd scream. Ard had followed, not saying a word, and for that Lor was grateful. There wasn't a single word that could make this situation better, nor alleviate Lor's mood. It wasn't a time for talking at all. It was a time for action, rather. Or frustrated cleaning, as he ended up doing.

For two hours straight, he'd scrubbed at the baths' tiles, cleaned the tubs and pool, and polished the metal spouts. He'd put all his anger and frustration and restlessness into it, trying to wear himself out, to stop himself from thinking too much. The thoughts had come, of course, but he'd valiantly ignoring him. Whenever his mind tried to tell him Sheik was a monster now, no better than Ascal, he'd told himself no. Sheik would never become anything like Ascal. Sheik was Sheik; Lor just needed a little time to reaffirm that belief. To reassure himself that he hadn't lost one of the few people he loved.

Ard had cleaned with him, again without a word. Just started scrubbing the tiles right beside him, fetching more water and soap whenever they ran out, offered Lor gentle, encouraging smiles whenever their eyes met.

I'm here, he'd said with his actions. I'm not leaving.

Lor wanted to kiss him for that, but he wasn't sure he could do it without crying over Sheik, and no matter how understanding Ard could be, even _he_ had his limits. Lor wouldn't do that to him. So he'd simply returned the smiles (shaky as they were) and delved back into work. For a time, the distraction had worked. He'd even found a particularly grimy spot he'd made a note to lecture Yari about when the other boy returned—there were still standards to uphold, damn it, if only for the other employees!

Upon finishing, however, the thoughts had returned immediately...but now they revolved around Ascal, and what he'd ordered his men to do, how to press Lor for information. He hadn't been able to stop the tears then, and broke down in the baths, kneeling on the tiles and bawling like a child. It was an ugly sight, one that no one, especially not Ard, should have been forced to witness. It would have been fitting, if the white-haired scientist, known for his prickly personality, had simply walked away then, abandoning whatever ridiculous excuse for a relationship they had for something, anything, that wasn't as ridiculous as this...but he hadn't.

He'd simply taken Lor into his arms and held him, whispering nonsensical phrases and words in a gentle tone into his ears. It had taken a for Lor to realise he'd been reciting and quoting various books on scientific subjects, and when he did he'd laughed. Ard had blushed, claiming he knew little of how to comfort others, but figured that laughter was better than tears. Lor had kissed him. He'd never known Ard could turn so red.

René had found them like that, and invited them into her office, uncomfortable with the figures that were roaming the Temple. Ascal, in particular, unnerved her greatly. Lor had apologised, but his assurance that it was all for the greater good (no matter how distant that good seemed to be) was all she'd needed. She'd offered them shelter for the rest of the day, realising that something significant had happened, but not prying.

She'd taken quite a liking to Ard, having expressed an interest in various scientific subjects, asking him question after question that he answered almost without fail. Some of René's clients had been _great thinkers_ , as she called them, and she'd enjoyed picking their brains afterwards, to satisfy her own curiosity.

And so the day had passed, in the comfort of her and Ard's company. It almost made Lor feel better. Almost. He still had to talk to Sheik, to assure himself that his friend was still...well, his friend. But it had to wait. He wasn't ready. Not yet. There'd been some sort of commotion later that afternoon, but no one had come to fetch them or speak to René, so they'd assumed it was not a big deal.

They'd been wrong, or else Lord Camdessus wouldn't be sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of wine, looking quite tipsy already. The floor in front of the bar was stained, some shards of glass remaining from a hasty clean-up. His signet ring caught the light of the lantern, making the dull metal shine. The lord looked quite miserable...and Lor found himself unexpectedly feeling a small pang of sympathy for him.

Which made no sense at all. This was the bastard who'd had Link's village sacked and tried to sell the children into slavery!

Steeling himself, he walked behind the bar, ignoring the Hylian entirely, trying to find the particular brandy he knew René enjoyed. With luck, Camdessus wouldn't—

Someone cleared their throat, and Lor's shoulders sank in dismay. He wasn't ready for this sort of conversation. With a sigh, he turned to look at the lord with a raised brow, hoping to portray himself as unimpressed and disinterested. "Yes?" he prompted.

"Sorry, I just...we haven't met."

His voice was miserable, and that too tugged at Lor's misplaced sympathy, much to his annoyance. "I'm no one important, _my lord_ ," he said in a venomous tone. "Just a whore."

And it _hurt._ It hurt, calling himself that again. It brought back all the feelings of worthlessness from before he'd met Sheik, Link, and everyone else. Before he felt like he was more than the tattoo on his cheek.

It only took him a moment to remember that he didn't _have_ that tattoo anymore, that it had been changed into something else. _He_ was changed. He was worth plenty...but he didn't want to speak with Lord Camdessus, and nobles wouldn't deign to speak to whores, now would they?

"You're Lorasi, aren't you?"

But of course, Lord Camdessus threw a wrench into the gears of his plan with a seemingly innocent question, and Lor found himself nodding.

"And you're Lord Camdessus," he said.

The lord nodded. "I've...heard a lot about you, from Eren and Nikal. What...what was done to you—"

"What _you_ did to me," Lor corrected. "What Ascal had his men do for _your_ benefit."

At least the lord had the decency to flinch at that, returning his gaze to the top of the bar. Lor hoped this was his moment to grab the brandy and run, because this was _not_ a conversation he wanted to have. When the lord drew a shuddery breath, though, he felt compelled to stay. Why, he had no idea. Perhaps he wanted an apology? But that was ridiculous—nobles _didn't_ apologise. It was not a function they were able to perform, because nobles never did anything wrong!

"I...am sorry, for what he did to you," Camdessus spoke very slowly, voice shaky and uncertain. "Even if I do not remember it, I am sorry. Eren and Nikal told me...about...what state they found you in."

Now it was Lor who flinched. He remembered being in that state. Naked, bruised, bloodied, and covered in...in...

"I would never have ordered such a thing."

Lor's hands gripped a random bottle from the selves, suddenly feeling a strong urge to smash it over Camdessus' head. "But you did!" he shouted. "Even if you didn't, you _let_ him do as he pleased!"

The lord said something, but it was mumbled and difficult to hear.

"What?!"

"I said...he acted on his own," Camdessus repeated a little louder, but still uncertain. "I just learned that...that he's been controlling me, all this time. For years. Something in his...in his bite..."

There were so many appropriate responses to that statement. The logical part of his mind wanted Lor to reject such a notion, that mind control was impossible. Of course, the _other_ logical part of his mind disagreed, given the many supposedly impossible things he'd witnessed over the past months. The romantic part of his mind wanted Lor to believe it, that Ascal was the big, bad monster pulling at every single string in the background, that the vampire was the root of all evil, of all the misery they'd all been put through. It _wanted_ him to believe that Camdessus was just another innocent caught up in Ascal's machinations...but even if that were true, Ascal had been doing it for _him_...

And in the end, it was the cruel part of Lor that won out, and he just laughed instead. He laughed until all that came out of him were short breaths, and he struggled to remain standing. Every time he looked at Camdessus and found the picture of abject misery looking back, he just laughed harder and harder. Vision swimming, he spotted the bottle he'd come to the bar for and grabbed it, stumbling towards the door, chuckling.

"Are you...are you all right?" Camdessus asked carefully, rising from his seat.

"I'm just peachy, your lordship," Lor replied, his sides hurting from the strain. "Just never thought I'd find a sorrier, more pathetic son of a bitch than me. Lie all you like; you'll still get yours before all this is over. Good evening to you."

And if it were all true, that Ascal really _had_ been manipulating the lord? If it meant Camdessus was now completely alone, like he'd been? Lor was pretty damn sure he'd be crying instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Man, this crappy day just never ends for the poor dears, does it? There's still some issues to sort out, but the hunters are running out of time; they can't stay in hiding forever! Will they find a way to put an end to Dehl before it's too late?**


	76. The Exceeder

The Temple was starting to feel claustrophobic. Granted, some part of it was because of the absolutely dreadful hangover he was currently nursing (and his lovely wife, the love of his life, no doubt about that, no sir, just wouldn't stop aggravating), but the rest was entirely due to being confined to the damn place with no possibility of going outside...at least not without risking getting caught. The guard patrols had doubled, and it was too stupid to risk capture just for the sake of fresh air to soothe his frazzled nerves.

Besides, he doubted Elenwe (his muse and guiding star) would even let him out of her sight at the moment. His sort of-kind of major failure with Sheik, followed by his subsequent intent to drink himself into oblivion (and his liver into an early grave), had _not_ left the Gerudo in a good mood, and now he was paying the price for his foolishness. Tira was certainly not in any better shape, but she was more collateral damage than the outright target of Elenwe's ire.

They'd been stupid, he knew. _He'd_ been stupid. The idea of Ascal having taken yet another member of his family away from him had been the only thing he could think of; the knowledge that he'd failed Impa in the worst possible way sinking its teeth into him and tearing at his flesh with its jaws. He'd seen _red_ , almost literally, and when Sheik had tried to reach out to him, to prove that he was still the cousin he'd grown up with and loved...he'd lashed out. At the completely wrong person.

For once in my life, I didn't lash out at myself, he thought. And it was at the worst possible moment...and the worst possible person. He'd barely registered the crushed expression on Sheik's face before Kafei's self-preservation instincts had taken over and brought him to the nearest source of alcohol, which he'd downed with gusto. Tira had joined him—partly out of sympathy, partly out of commiseration, and partly because...well, vampires terrified her. Even Sheik, with those adorable puppy-dog eyes of his, though slightly marred by the amber dots now found around his irises.

Sheik couldn't be terrifying even if he tried, in Kafei's opinion. His cousin was many things, but scary was not one of them, despite how much he wanted to be to his enemies. To Kafei, he'd always be the serious (and occasionally extremely clumsy) little boy who wanted nothing more than to live up to his title and family legacy. Even now, having the evidence presented before his eyes, Kafei couldn't think of him as a monster. Ascal was the monster here...and Kafei was a coward.

He'd always been a little predisposed to self-pity. He'd never known his parents, raised by a rapidly declining circle of distant uncles, aunts, and cousins, before ending up at the Studio, with the last two people he definitely had blood-ties to. Well, Mana too, but she had been related to _everyone_ , apparently. It was so incredibly easy to feel sorry for oneself, in such circumstances. Usually, he'd been able to keep it to himself, though...

But no more of that, he thought, steeling himself and knocking on the door in front of him. Tira did not look ready for any sort of confrontation right now, but...well, it was either that or going back to Elenwe with nothing to report, and that would just let loose the dogs of war, wouldn't it?

"Who's there?"

Ascal's voice, reverberating against the tiles of the bath within, made him shiver with anger, but he kept it down. They still needed him. Soon enough, they could put an end to both him and Dehl, and get on with their lives.

"A very stupid cousin," Kafei answered, more for Sheik's benefit than Ascal's, even though it was the elder vampire that snorted and responded.

"Come on in, then, before little brother here does a runner."

Not that Sheik could run, at this point. The baths didn't have a single window, and the only exit was the door Kafei just opened. It was the reason he'd been confined in there, after his rather disastrous awakening.

An accident, though. Ascal had guaranteed it. Caused by rabid hunger, the likes of which their fragile little mortal minds could scarcely even _begin_ to imagine. Ascal was something of a pompous arse, and more than half of everything he ever said was utter twaddle, but this one thing was something Kafei hoped was true. That Sheik truly hadn't been in control, that he hadn't _willingly_ bitten Link. Never mind that the Hylian was sleeping fitfully in his bed, hardly bothered at all by the letting...

Impa claimed having to raise both him and Sheik on her own had given her prematurely grey hair—Kafei was sure that handling his vampiric cousin would do the same to him—dye or no dye.

Sheik was curled up in a corner, arms wrapped around his knees, his eyes flicking here and there, but never landing on Kafei. Ascal was sitting on the room of the pool in which Kafei and Tira had been soaking just an hour or so before, a small reprieve before all hell had broken loose. His head gave a twinge of pain, just to remind him that the hangover was still very real. The elder vampire looked quite relaxed, but the younger was...so... Kafei's heart nearly broke at the sight. For the first time since Sheik was a child, he looked _lost_. That wasn't his little cousin at all. Sheik _always_ knew who he was, where he was, and where he was going. This was _not_ a look Kafei wanted him to sport.

"You still stink of absinthe," Ascal noted with a curled lip, nose flaring in distaste.

"You're still a leech," Kafei countered, annoyed with himself for drinking. It was impossible to come up with good insults like this. He glanced behind him, where Tira was loitering in the hall. They'd decided to do this separately, to not overwhelm Sheik. "Get out, I want to speak with my cousin in private."

"You sure you've got the stones for that?" Ascal asked mockingly. "He's docile like a puppy right now, but his tongue's sharp as a whip, still."

"Out," Kafei repeated, not interested in bantering with the monster anymore. Really, if he could through the rest of this farce without having to interact with the bastard, he'd be quite happy. He doubted such luck would find him, of course, but he was allowed to dream. "Now."

"All right, boss, all right," Ascal said, standing up and dusting off his shoulders in an exaggerated manner. "No need to get your pants in a twist."

"I'll twist your _neck_ if you're not gone in the next five seconds," Kafei growled. Every moment spent in the vampire's presence seemed to make his headache worse, and he was afraid his head would explode if Ascal remained nearby any longer.

"I'd survive that, but as you wish. I have an appointment with the good doctor, anyway," Ascal said, strutting by (and taking his time doing it), casting one last look at Sheik. "This was a good talk, little brother. I'd like to have more of them. You have much to learn, still."

Tira closed the door, leaving Kafei and Sheik alone in the bath. Kafei hovered awkwardly by the stools, unsure if he should come closer, or if that would make Sheik uncomfortable. Or perhaps the distance was? Really, his presence in general would probably make Sheik uncomfortable, and what a damn fool Kafei had been, thinking he could fix this—

"You can sit down, if you wish," Sheik said carefully, still refusing (or unable) to look at him. He remained seated in the corner, looking nothing like the scary, monstrous beings vampires were always painted as. Honestly, Ascal didn't fit the description either, appearance-wise, but his history clung to him like a sinister cloak, unlike Sheik.

Kafei did sit down (avoiding the spot Ascal had been occupying), placing his hands on his thighs, palms facing upwards, showing that he wasn't brandishing a weapon. He wasn't carrying any at all, but he wanted Sheik to feel safe, that he wasn't about to attack him. Kafei _hated_ that he had make such a gesture to his cousin, of all people.

"He...wasn't bothering you, was he?" Kafei asked carefully after a very painful moment of silence. "The vamp?"

"He always bothers me," Sheik replied, but his tone wasn't as bitter as one would expect. "But...not so much, right now. He...knows things. Things I need to know to survive." Sheik chuckled, looking down at the tiled floor. "That is...if I ever leave this room."

Kafei frowned. "And why wouldn't you be leaving this room?" he asked.

Sheik shrugged. "A multitude of reasons—I'm a vampire, you're a hunter. I'm a monster. Your duty is to destroy beings like me." He didn't meet Kafei's gaze, but he gave the older Sheikah's clothes a once-over. "Surprised you didn't bring every weapon in your arsenal. We're apparently tough to kill."

Kafei shook his head. "I'm not going to kill you," he said firmly. "No one is. You will be leaving this room just fine."

"In chains, then," Sheik said, nodding. "Guess I'll have to play along—Ascal certainly didn't have any issues breaking free."

"Do you really consider me that heartless, Sheik?" Kafei asked, barely believing his own ears. Had he reacted so badly, that Sheik was now convinced he was going to be killed at any moment? Surely not!

"You heard what I did," Sheik said matter-of-factly, voice dull. "If you didn't trust me before, you surely won't now. I doubt you did, though. When you were told—"

Kafei shook his head. "Whatever you believe I was thinking at that moment, just forget it; you're wrong."

His cousin seemed a little miffed at being interrupted. "Hard to mistake a look like _that_..."

Kafei, coward extraordinaire, very briefly considered running out of the room. He'd never been good at this. He had no trouble feeling things, but expressing them, or helping others with theirs, had always been a challenge. Goddesses knew he'd run from plenty of situations like these before. What was one more?

Everything. This one was everything. He could _not_ run from this one.

"I was angry," he said slowly, making sure that Sheik was listening (though still refusing to meet his eyes). "Very angry—felt like I was burning inside from it." Sheik lowered his head, probably anticipating some sort of sledgehammer of abuse. "But not at you." He looked up. "I was angry at Ascal, for what he did to you. Angry at _what_ happened to you. Most of all..." Kafei sighed. "Most of all, I was angry at myself—for not being there to prevent it. Angry because...in one fell swoop, I broke the most important promise I ever made to Impa—to look out for you."

Now Sheik's eyes finally met his, and in those amber-flecked rubies, he saw apprehension, suspicion, fear...and hope. Kafei would always nurture the last one, no matter what it took.

"You know me, Sheik," he said, shrugging helplessly. "Never been good with..." he gestured vaguely into the air. "Dealing with things. I mean, you saw me at the Studio. Elenwe gets hurt, I get plastered and nearly shoot myself in the head."

"With an unloaded gun," Sheik said, a small, wry tugging at the corner of his mouth signalling a return to a mood Kafei felt more confident with.

"Knowing me, I'd find a way to accidentally off myself with that, too," Kafei said self-deprecatingly. "Point is, I don't react well to things unless they're hunting-related. When I was told that you...that you were... My last real family, turned into..." he trailed off, unable to find a way to say it without it becoming an insult. "That I fucked up colossally," he ended up saying, carefully trying not to notice how Sheik had flinched at every badly started sentence. "I handled it poorly. I lashed out, but not at the ones who deserved it. I lashed out at the last person who should be blamed for this." He looked directly at Sheik. "I am sorry, Sheik. You have no idea how truly, utterly sorry I am. Can you forgive me?"

Whatever Sheik had expected to come of this conversation, this wasn't it. It was almost hilarious, the very convincing gaping fish-impression his adorable little cousin could do. It would not do to guffaw, though, so he steeled his face instead, refusing to relent until Sheik understood just how serious he was about his apology.

It took the younger Sheikah an endless moment to answer. "I...I would have done the same thing," he said slowly, twining his fingers slowly, nervously.

Kafei shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have. You've always been the more level-headed of us. You've slipped up every now and then, but you always reserve your anger for those who deserve it. Mostly."

"I still wouldn't trust you, though, had you been turned—"

"Sheik, I don't even trust myself _now_ , and I doubt I have much confidence with the others either." He grinned a little. "Frankly, every time I'm reminded I'm supposed to be the leader of this little band of ours, I scream internally."

That got him a chuckle, this one actually filled with emotion rather than the dead, listless ones from before. Then Sheik seemed to remember something, and it died right away.

"I attacked Link," he said. "That alone makes me unworthy of your trust, much less sympathy—"

"I may not know much about vampires," Kafei interrupted, not really interested in listening to more self-criticism from Sheik right then. "But based on what I've heard Ascal say, as well as what little Impa had to share, when the hunger overtakes them...instincts tend to play a larger role than conscious thoughts and actions. You attacked him, but only because your body was desperate to feed."

"That is still no excuse—"

"Perhaps not, but the fact that you were turned into a vampire less than two days ago certainly does," Kafei said, once again not willing to put up with his cousin's shenanigans. "In time, you will learn to control yourself, I'm sure."

"Until then—"

"That's a problem for the future—we need to focus on the here and now. Such as the very delicate political situation we've been dragged into."

He'd almost forgotten that, with the personal hell his life had turned into as of late.

"And Link?" Sheik asked, his tone bitter. "He's not an issue for the here and now?"

"At the moment, Link is snoring so loudly the walls are shaking," Kafei said drily, having heard the racket for himself.

"So _that's_ what that sound is?" Sheik said, his shoulders drooping a little, whether it was from disappointment or relief was hard to say.

"Honestly, I thought the building was about to collapse," the purple-haired Sheikah said, adding a little grin now. "Sheik, whatever you did to Link doesn't seem to have affected him in a negative way. If anything, he's sleeping more fitfully, and his healing has accelerated. His bruises are nearly gone. His stomach is growling, too, so I think he'll empty Madame René's larder when he _does_ wake. Barely a hunter, and he's already putting us in debt..."

"I think we'll manage," Sheik said with a genuine smile, and Kafei was glad to hear him say _we_ rather than _you_.

"We always find a way," he said, smiling at his cousin. Taking a chance, he stood up and walked slowly to stand in front of Sheik, bending down and offering his hand. Sheik looked hesitant for a moment, but finally took it and allowed Kafei to pull him to his feet, breath catching as the older Sheikah pulled him into the tightest hug he could muster. "You'll always be my cousin," he said. "My little brother. Not _his_ little brother, _mine_. Ours. The hunters'. You'll _always_ be one of us."

As if he'd been waiting to be told just that (clumsily worded as it was), Sheik returned the embrace, even tighter (to the point where it got difficult to breathe, but Kafei endured), resting his forehead against Kafei's shoulder. Sheik's skin was slightly cool to the touch, but apart from that it was like nothing had changed at all.

Because nothing _had_ ; nothing important.

Sheik shuddered as he drew breath, and Kafei felt the tension leaving his body, letting himself lean against his cousin, if only for a moment.

That's right, Kafei thought. Lean on me. It's what I'm here for. I may have to skin Link for corrupting you, but that's an older brother's job, is it not?

"And...Tira?" Sheik asked, pulling out of the embrace and clearing his throat, scratching at the rims of his eyes.

The acid burn on his cheek was gone, Kafei noted, wondering if Sheik himself had noticed. Had the vampirism healed _every_ scar and injury Sheik had ever suffered? The elder Sheikah was almost tempted to ask him about his knee, but decided it was better left for another time, when the mood was better for teasing.

"Right outside, trying to come up with a good apology," he said, resting a hand on Sheik's shoulder and refusing to remove it. He needed to make sure Sheik understood the hug wasn't a fluke, a one-time thing. They were still family, and he wanted to prove that to him. "She's afraid of vampires, you know."

"Is she?" Sheik asked.

"So Elenwe claims, at least," he said, nodding sagely. "I think this is a good opportunity for her to apologise, and for you to show her that you're nothing like Ascal. That you _don't_ _want_ to be like him."

"I don't think even _Ascal_ wants to be like Ascal," Sheik said.

"Yes, well, let's focus on you for now, yeah?" Kafei said as he turned towards the door, not in the mood to play mind doctor for Ascal. One vampire to worry about was more than enough for Kafei. "Ready?"

Sheik smiled.

"Yes."

* * *

Contrary to what he'd expect, Link felt _good_ when he woke up. His muscles were a little stiff, and his stomach felt hollow, but there was no pain, no discomfort. For a glorious moment, he kept his eyes closed, simply enjoying the feeling of comfort and warmth of the bed he was in, wondering when he'd last slept in proper bedding and on feathered pillows.

Then he remembered the reason he'd fallen asleep in the first place, and he bolted upright, groaning when his abdominal muscles protested very ardently against this action. Ignoring it, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pausing when he realised he wasn't alone in the room. Ascal looked amused from his seat by Erd's alchemy set, the white-haired scientist too busy with whatever he was working on to notice.

"You all right, Wolfy?" Ascal asked with a grin.

Link scowled at him. His scent was still as unpleasant as ever, and the Hylian was uncomfortable with the fact that, despite the smell of death that permeated the air around Ascal, he wasn't entirely repulsed by the vampire's presence itself.

It's only because he saved Sheik's life, Link told himself. That is all.

Maybe if he _kept_ telling himself that, it would eventually come true.

Ignoring the question, Link's hands automatically began making the signs for one of his own. Where was Sheik, anyway? He could barely remember what had happened, but it _had_ involved Sheik biting him, and people panicking...

He received only a raised eyebrow in return to his signs, and only then did Link realise Ascal did not understand them. Really, of their group, only Sheik, Kaura, and Tao understood them fully. He frowned a little, wondering how he'd communicate with the others, his chit long since lost.

"If you're wondering where little brother is, he's downstairs," Ascal said. It probably wasn't difficult for him to figure out what Link wanted to know. "He was confined to the baths after his little...er...sampling," the vampire continued. "For his own safety, of course. Last I heard he was hashing things out with his cousin, who did not take things very well." He sniffed. "Stupid man, really. Overly sentimental. A lousy drunk, too."

"Frankly, getting drunk is not an unappealing idea right now," Erd said, taking his eye off his work to give Link a quick visual examination. "How are you feeling?"

Link gave a thumbs-up and a little smile (being careful not to show too much of his teeth, which he knew made some of the others uncomfortable). It was the truth. Physically, he was perfectly fine save for a gnawing hunger. Mentally...well, he'd have to examine that later. There was too much work to do right now, such as finding his errant lover. He huffed and stood up, swaying a little before finding his balance.

"Anything hurting?" Erd continued. "Anything feeling off, at all?"

Link shook his head. His muscles were sore, but given what had happened (provided it wasn't all a horrible dream, which he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't, unfortunately) he was amazed he could stand at all.

"That's good," Erd said, smiling back. "Kaura wanted to see you when you woke up. She's across the hall with Ayla and Sheik's little spies—"

It was strange, to Link. In his mind, he was still the same person he was before. Sure, his eyes were a little weaker, his sense of smell and hearing enhanced beyond his wildest dreams, and his healing ability skyrocketing, but other than that...he was still himself. He'd certainly enjoyed getting to know them, but Link couldn't remember the utter fondness he felt in his chest when the presence of Eren and Nikal (for who else could it be but them, given that moniker?) was revealed. All he knew was that he was out of the room and tearing across the hall, not even knocking on the door before storming inside.

The pack, he thought. They're part of the pack!

* * *

"Fascinating, those instincts," Ascal said mostly to himself, grinning when he heard Kaura's loud protests at the sudden intrusion across the hall. "Never had a chance to see them up close like this, before."

"You mentioned something about having hunted them before," Erd said, visible eye sliding from Ascal to his beakers and dishes, and back. "But there were no records of any such hunts...at least not in our archives at the Studio."

"Because the hunters weren't involved," Ascal drawled. "The walkers did all the work themselves."

"That so?" Erd said, voice sceptical.

"We weren't exactly trying to make a big splash in the pond back then," the vampire said with a grin. "But we couldn't ignore the growing infestation of lycans either, so we decided to attempt eradicating them at the source...and we thought we did. Several times. But new lycans began appearing every time we declared them extinct. For a while we thought they were some sort of hive mind, where if the breeding individuals all died, drones would take their places, but that theory didn't pan out. In the end, we assumed they were just very good at hiding at least one individual away whenever we came knocking."

"And you didn't share this with us, because...?" Erd asked.

Ascal's grin grew wider. "No one ever asked."

Erd huffed and turned his attention back to the beaker he'd been examining with his portable microscope.

"Anything interesting?" Ascal asked.

"It'll take equipment more sophisticated than what I've got here to analyse your venom," Erd said after a moment of contemplation. "The sheer number of different chemicals in it is mind-boggling. Some of these shouldn't even be possible for your body to produce on its own!"

"I always knew I was amazing," Ascal said happily, leaning back in his chair. "Please, do continue."

* * *

Link paid Kaura no heed as he stormed inside the room, eyes sweeping over the individuals inside. The air smelled of blood and antiseptic, mostly centred around the bed where Ayla lay with her leg tightly bound up with bandages. She seemed to be resting, not even stirring at the sound of Link crashing into the little sanctuary. His eyes then found Nikal, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him with wide eyes. She seemed to be all right; a little skinnier (and a lot filthier) than when he'd last seen her, but with no obvious injuries.

"Link?" she asked.

Link rushed forward and drew her into a bone-crushing hug, swinging her around a little. Another pack member was all right, and that was all he needed (and wanted) to know. She laughed, pushing half-heartedly at his shoulders, trying to get him to let her go, but he only tightened his hold on her. Sheik would be so happy to know she was all right.

But what about...?

Still holding on to Nikal (she weighed practically nothing, which was worrying), Link scanned the room again, quickly finding Kaura sitting in the corner with Eren and...Goddesses...his hand!

Link felt the growl in his throat and the fire in his chest. Whoever had done that to Eren would fucking _pay_! He'd tear them apart limb from limb!

"He's all right, big guy, settle down," Kaura said firmly, glaring at Link and admonishing him like a child. "The nails will grow back, and the bruises will heal...as long as he stays _still_ ," she turned to give Eren a very firm stare, and it was almost how funny how obediently Eren immediately nodded.

"Yes, doctor," he said meekly. He gave Link a smile right after, waving with his healthy hand.

Link wanted nothing more than to walk over and pick him up as well, and hide the cubs far away from the world that wanted to hurt them, but he was afraid of what Kaura might do if he disturbed her task of delicately cleaning the tips of Eren's fingers and wrapping them up to protect them from infection.

Wait, cubs?

He felt fingers delicately tangling in his shaggy hair and turned to look at Nikal, who was examining him with narrowed eyes.

"You've changed," she said simply, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. "You're taller, too."

Link huffed, opening his mouth and accidentally giving her a view of his teeth, which drew a gasp from the young girl.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

Occupied as his hands were, Link could do little but shrug.

"And why aren't you saying anything?" Eren asked.

"Long story, kid," Kaura said, apparently taking pity on the Hylian. "Told shortly, he got himself bit by a werewolf, turned into one, and lost his voice in the process. He's not dangerous, though, so don't worry. Now hold _still_ , or this will hurt even more than it has to."

"It _already_ hurts," Eren whined.

Slightly miffed at how one of the most pivotal moments of his life had been summed up so casually, Link huffed again, drawing Kaura's attention. He made a sign with the one hand he managed to wriggle free (refusing to let go of Nikal with the other), asking,

**Who?**

He then glanced pointedly at Eren.

"He wants to know who did this to you," Kaura translated.

"The other vamp's second-in-command," Nikal said with a tone that was almost a growl, and the fact that she could make such a sound made Link unreasonably happy. "Avi, or something."

"Avi, yeah," Eren agreed. "Looks like a thug."

"And sure as hell acts like one," Nikal added.

Link growled again.

"I'm pretty sure that was a promise to kill him," Kaura said, almost amused.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," Eren said. Having left those bruises on the boy's face...Link knew he would have no trouble killing the man responsible. "I'll even point him out for you, if you'd like."

"I don't think the boss is going to let you go out there like that," Nikal said.

Finally content that the cub— _kids_ were all right (mostly), Link set Nikal down on the floor, glad to see she didn't shy away in the face of what he'd become (honestly, their easy acceptance seemed almost suspicious, like _someone_ had been feeding them information on what to expect), and turned his attention to Ayla. He didn't like how pale she looked, or how she'd managed to sleep through the ruckus he'd just made. Nikal noticed his glance.

"She was shot in the leg," she explained. "Some idiot decided to rob her while she was hiding from the Watch. She was about to kill herself to avoid capture when we found her."

Link walked over to the bed, touching the Gerudo's shoulder gently. Her jaw twitched, but she did not wake from her slumber. Ayla had never struck him as a heavy sleeper, which meant this injury had to be bad.

"Bullet glanced off her femur, but lucky for her it didn't break," Kaura said. "Barely even a fracture. She'll have to stay off that leg for a while, but should make a full recovery provided she doesn't do anything stupid...but in this group that seems to be mostly inevitable." She sighed. "Why am I even here again?"

"Because you like us?" Eren suggested, earning himself an extra drop of disinfectant that made him hiss in pain.

"No, that's not it," the physician said thoughtfully. "Hm, clearly insanity has to be a factor..." She finished cleaning the last of Eren's fingers and wrapped it up carefully, before wrapping his entire hand up in a second layer, mostly to keep the first layer stable. She then turned to Link, ushering Eren out of the chair opposite her and gesturing Link towards it. "Go on, sit down. I need to have a look at you, too."

Link obeyed, but not before sweeping Eren into an embrace just as tight as he'd given Nikal first, earning him a delighted laugh from the boy, who hugged him back fiercely.

The first thing the doctor checked was his neck, where Link could still feel the phantom pain of Sheik's fangs sinking into it. She murmured quietly, mostly so Eren and Nikal, who were sitting by Ayla's bed, wouldn't hear. "Hm...no marks. Healed up without as much as a dimple. How do you feel?"

**Good,** Link signed. **Sore, but good. Hungry.**

She snorted. "That's to be expected, given the amount of energy you must have spent to...you know." She left it hanging in the air, not sure how much she should reveal about Link and Sheik's natures now. "I'm sure Madame René won't mind it if you raid the kitchen later."

Link nodded. He wasn't interested in a check-up, having far too many things to attend to, but he knew the good doctor would give him hell if he didn't subject himself to one. He understood why she felt it was necessary, of course, but his instincts told him to find his mate and make sure he was all right. He didn't like the idea of Sheik being confined somewhere...

Luckily, it didn't last long, and Kaura was quickly satisfied to find him more or less normal again (as far as that term could be applied to Link these days), and sent him off after drawing another vial of blood to be analysed later.

"I just want to make sure what happened in the sewers hasn't affected you in any permanent way," she offered as a reason. Mostly, Link suspected she was just curious. He knew a fascinated look when he saw one, and the one she regarded him with as she examined him was definitely that. "He's downstairs in the baths," she added, seeing that Link was antsy to get going.

"You're going to see the boss?" Eren asked when Link headed for the door.

"Can we come?" Nikal added.

Link would have laughed at the way they purposefully widened their eyes in a theatrical show of adorableness, but he could sense their anxiety (mirroring his own), and he couldn't find it in him to say no, so he simply nodded, satisfied as they followed him like ducklings (or cubs, his treacherous mind kept correcting them to, which he quite firmly ignored).

"Link, something's happened to Sheik, hasn't it?" Eren asked as they made their way downstairs.

"No one will tell us, but they keep avoiding talking about him," Nikal said with a scowl. "Like they don't trust us or something."

"Did the leech hurt him?" Eren narrowed his eyes at his own suggestion. "I'll kill him if he did."

It was a difficult question to answer, and Link was for once glad that he couldn't speak and that the cu- _kids_ didn't understand Tao's sign language. In many ways, Ascal had hurt Sheik greatly...but at the same time, he'd also saved his life. Link's feelings about the vampire were ridiculously conflicted at the moment, and he had no idea how he was supposed to answer it. He settled for another shrug, which did not satisfy the little spies, but they did not press him for more.

They landed on the ground floor, and immediately headed down the corridor leading to the baths. The last time Link had been down this way, they'd just gotten back from his second hunt in the cistern, and hired Lor so he could recover from his abusive client. That wasn't a good memory...

Kafei was standing outside the door, and he perked up when he spotted the procession heading towards him. "Good to see you up and about, Wolf," he said, nodding to Link. "And you too," he added to Eren and Nikal. Link wrinkled his nose at the older man's scent—he'd been drinking recently, the stench of alcohol coming off him in waves.

"You're a Sheikah too, like the boss," Nikal said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Kafei," he introduced himself. "Your boss' cousin."

"Like all Sheikah?" Eren asked.

Kafei laughed. "No, his _actual_ cousin." He looked at Link. "Tira's inside, talking to him. You all right?"

Link nodded, wondering what Sheik and Tira were talking about. As he was about to attempt communicating this question, the door opened and the dark-skinned Hylian stepped outside, a strange expression on her face. She too, Link realised, reeked of alcohol. Had there been a party while he'd been out?

"You good?" Kafei asked her, and she nodded slowly.

"It's...it'll take a while to get used to, but...yeah, we're good," she replied, noticing Link and smiling at him. "Welcome back," she said, to which Link nodded and smiled. "Guess you're anxious to get inside, huh? Might want to leave the kids out here—"

"Hell no!" Eren declared and stormed past her, practically hurling himself through the door, closely followed by Nikal.

Link huffed a laugh at them and trailed after, giving the other hunters a helpless look, which they answered with amused ones.

The tiled room was almost unbearably warm, but Link didn't care, his heart melting at the sight of Eren and Nikal clinging to Sheik like a pair of excited barnacles, both of them talking at the same time, asking him how he was, where he'd been, what had happened...all accompanied by his lover looking more than a little bewildered, unsure of how to handle the two of them, clearly torn between returning the affection he so very much wanted to, and stepping back to tell them about what had happened...because no one had clearly seen fit to share Sheik's little...change to them.

Link took a moment to study his lover, overriding his instinct and desire to bowl them all over. Sheik looked, all things considered, well. A little harried and tired, but given what happened just before Link had passed out again, he'd expected worse. To his surprise, Link saw that the acid burn on Sheik's cheek was gone—healed by his vampirism, then?

Link had a sneaking suspicion that he should have felt more uncomfortable around Sheik, given the way Sheik had fed on him without asking, but...Link found that he didn't, in any way. Sure, the initial bite had hurt, but the feeling just after had been nothing but delightful. And Sheik had needed it. Would _keep_ needing it. And if anyone was suitable for the role of donor, surely it was Link, with his healing ability? It probably didn't hurt him nearly as much as, well, _anyone_ else.

"All right, you two," Sheik said with a chuckle, finally managing to extricate himself from the pair of them, stepping back into a corner of the room, giving them a thorough once-over. He grimaced at the sight of Eren. "Who did this to you?" he demanded, reaching out to gently touch Eren's cheek, where a particularly large yellow-blue bruise still blossomed.

"The leech's second-in-command," Nikal explained. "Link's promised to kill him."

Sheik winced slightly at the word _leech_ , but covered it up quickly. "I'll gladly help him," he said, meeting Link's eyes for the first time. He didn't say anything, but Link saw the silent apology he was offering, the question of how he was feeling. Link answered both with a nod and a wide smile. He didn't want Sheik to worry—because there was nothing to worry _about_.

"I'm so glad you two are well," Sheik continued, relief evident his posture and his voice. "I was worried..." he trailed off. "The others?" he added, looking afraid of the answer.

"Dead," Eren answered, eyes downcast. "We tried to get to them, but the leech was faster, had more men."

"They slit Tinn's throat and left him to bleed out in the street," Nikal said with a hiss. "He didn't even _do_ anything—he just helped us get Lor out." She paused. "Did...he made it, right?"

"He did, don't worry," Sheik said quickly, covering the pained look that crossed his face at the mention of Tinn. "Didn't anyone tell you? He came back with us...but...I'm not sure where he is right now."

"We were kidnapped by Doctor Kaura when we got here," Eren explained. "Wouldn't let us come see you."

"And Ayla?"

**Sleeping, but mostly fine,** Link signed quickly. **Has to stay bedridden for a while, though. Shot in the leg.**

"I'm glad," Sheik said.

"Boss?" Nikal asked suddenly, her voice wavering a little.

"Yes, Nik?"

"Your eyes...they're different."

"Yeah," Eren agreed. "There's...dots in them?"

Sheik sighed and walked past them to sit on the edge of the raised pool. Link quickly seated himself beside him, offering his silent support, and showing his lover that he wasn't afraid of him. That nothing had changed.

"How do I even start?" Sheik said, and no small amount of fatigue coloured his voice.

"Long story?" Eren asked cheekily, which made Sheik chuckle.

"Feels like the longest story I've ever had to tell," the Sheikah admitted, shaking his head. "And...well, I suppose I might as well start simple. I'm a vampire. I was mortally wounded in an ambush by Dehl's men, and Ascal...well, he had no choice. To save me, I had to be turned." He didn't look at the kids' faces as he spoke, focusing instead on tiles under his feet. "I didn't want it...but I'd be lying if I said that I'd choose death." He drew a sharp breath. "But I am nothing like him," he said firmly. "I will _never_ be like him. If I even _seem_ like I'm becoming like him...you have my permission to kill me."

Link clenched his jaw. It hurt to hear his mate speak like this. He put his arm around Sheik's shoulders and drew him close, offering him something to lean on. Sheik accepted it immediately, resting his weight against Link's side.

There was a quiet gasp, and Link looked up, seeing Nikal's hands clamped over her mouth. Eren was looking at her, confusion evident on his face. At first, Link thought she was horrified, but...she almost looked...giddy?

"Are you..." she began. "Are you together?!"

Link blinked. That was what she chose to focus on, after being told her boss had become a monster? For that matter, they'd both taken Link's own change in stride, not even taking a moment to assure themselves of his intentions?

Eren's eyes widened, and a frown made his lips turn in a decidedly downwards fashion...but the look he gave Sheik was more one of annoyance than anything else. "Damn it, boss!"

Sheik paused. "Excuse me?"

Nikal whooped loudly, her voice bouncing off the tiles so loudly it made Link's sensitive ears hurt. "Yes! I knew it, I knew it! Take _that_ , Eren!"

"Did I miss something?" Sheik asked, directing his question to Link, who could only blink helplessly in the face of the strange display in front of him. Eren had crossed his arms, glaring at Nikal with a look that spoke of murder, while Nikal just continued dancing around. "What's going on?" Sheik asked, raising his voice a little.

Nikal stopped dancing, looking at him in triumph. "We had a bet going, if you two were going to be an item when you got back! And you are, so I win." She turned to Eren. "You owe me twenty rupees, Er."

"Just couldn't keep it to yourself, huh, boss?" Eren asked sourly before glaring at Nikal. "I don't have the money on me, you know!"

"I'll add it to your tab," she said happily.

Sheik's mouth had fallen open at some point, and Link almost laughed at the flabbergasted look that had come over his mate. It was too cute for words! "And...my being a vampire is just...nothing to you, is it?" he asked.

The pair of them stopped their bickering and turned to regard Sheik with what appeared to be analytical eyes before, almost as one, shrugging.

"You're still the boss," Nikal said, as if that was any sort of explanation worthy of consideration.

"Yeah," Eren said with a nod. "Besides, you're probably gonna kill the other two when we're done here, right? That's good enough for me."

Then, as if Sheik hadn't just dropped a very vital and life-changing piece of information on them both, the little spies went right back to bickering about Eren's worryingly large gambling debt, and Nikal's increasingly nightmarish suggestions on how she would collect on it. The Sheikah continued gaping at them for a moment before turning to Link.

"Have I gone insane?" he asked quietly.

Link trilled happily instead and drew Sheik close, kissing his lover's forehead tenderly. His mate really did worry too much sometimes.

"Aw!" Nikal cooed.

"I've been betrayed!" Eren wailed.

And all was, for a just a moment, well.

* * *

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. I realise that few of you will be inclined to listen to me at this stage, given what has transpired, but I believe I have come up with a solution to the current situation that will be agreeable to all parties. At the very least, it is an alternative to whatever other plans you have laid so far. Time is, however, very much of the essence, and it is vital that you consider what I have to say quickly, lest we lose the window of opportunity."

Despite his haggard appearance and slightly glassy eyes, Jerewin Camdessus looked quite noble as he stood before the inner circle (which meant pretty much every single person who'd managed to find themselves dragged into this ridiculous farce), his posture tall and proud. His jaw was set firmly, and he let his gaze sweep over every single individual that had gathered in Madame René's office.

He'd called the meeting soon after midnight, having spent much of his time thinking in the bar, not interacting with anyone, not even Ascal. Madame René had offered the office as a safe space, away from the prying ears of her employees.

Sheik wasn't sure what to make of the Jerewin Camdessus he saw standing by the fireplace. This one seemed a lot more...genuine? It was difficult to find a word to describe him. To him, it looked like this Camdessus was surer of himself, more comfortable in his own skin. He was quite unlike the Jerewin Camdessus he'd seen at the celebration at the palace, where he'd hounded Zelda with his economic reform ideas (thoughtfully put into his head by Ascal). Perhaps it was the knowledge of what Ascal had done to him, that he was more at ease this way? It was hard to say, but Sheik was definitely sure that this Camdessus was refusing to look at Ascal for more than the half-second that courtesy required.

"All right," Kafei said, speaking for the group at large. "We're listening." He managed to keep his expression neutral, even, despite how much he likely wanted to behead the man who, by proxy, had destroyed the Studio. Then again, that had probably not been his intention. Who knew, with the way Ascal had screwed up his mind with the regular feedings?

"Tomorrow," Camdessus said, pausing as he glanced at the clock on the mantel. "That is, today, at noon, there will be a grand assembly of the Interim Council. During this meeting, the council, along with the city's guild leaders and nobles of rank, address and discuss legislature and other matters concerning the realm. As council leader, I have been presiding over smaller meetings since the formation after the unfortunate incident at the Lake Hylia summer home—"

"The incident you and your pet bloodsucker here orchestrated," Ayla drawled. She was in a comfortable chair to the side, her leg resting on a footstool. Kaura had discouraged her from attending the meeting, but she'd threatened to walk down by herself and gotten her will in the end.

Camdessus paused, temporarily thrown by the accusation, but quickly recovered. "Er, yes, though I will point out that the original plan merely involved the decoy's capture, not her death—"

"It doesn't matter what the original plan was," Sheik said, perhaps a tad more venomously than intended. "She's still dead, and her blood is on your hands, as is that of everyone Dehl has murdered since then." The pain of having his entire network reported as extinguished save for Eren and Nikal (thank the Goddesses) was still fresh, and the thought of them being butchered in the streets was a hard one to bear.

"Be that as it may, we are not here to rip open old wounds," Kafei said in a raised voice, hoping to calm the already rising tension in the room. "Lord Camdessus, please continue."

"Right—normally, I would be attending this assembly." Camdessus cleared his throat. "However, since I am no longer in her custody, Dehl has seen fit to inform the rest of the council that I have been struck by a wasting sickness, and that she will act in my stead. She is able to do this, because she carries my seal. Acting as my proxy, she is, essentially, currently in control of Hyrule."

"She needs the agreement of the council majority to enact any changes or policies, though," Elenwe said.

"Their agreement is all but guaranteed, as Dehl has a rather...effective method of persuasion," Camdessus said carefully.

"Meaning, she threatens to kill anyone who disagrees with her," Ascal translated for the rest of them. "Crude, but indeed very effective."

"She has already made good on her threats a few times already," Camdessus said, not even looking at Ascal, like he was pretending the vampire didn't exist. "Several council members have been replaced by their younger, more agreeable heirs due to unfortunate accidents..."

"So, we've basically lost before we've even started, then?" Tira asked. "If she's already in control, what hope do we have to stop her?"

"By having Lord Camdessus attend the assembly," Kafei said, to which the young lord nodded.

"Correct—she is only in control unofficially as my representative," he said. "If I make an appearance and denounce her, and reveal that not only has she been leading them all astray, but also murdered the princess' decoy, her grip on the council and the realm will be broken. If I at the same time reveal that the princess is still alive and in hiding...well, she will have no choice but to surrender."

"She won't surrender," Ascal said chidingly. "You know that as well as I, my lord. Dehl will never go down without a fight, and I daresay she has a rather substantial amount of men on her side, even after it is revealed that Princess Zelda is alive and well. From what we've seen, she controls the entire Watch—"

"Only because they believe she is acting on _his_ orders," Sheik said, seeing, at the very least, a glimmer of light at the end of a very dark tunnel. "As soon as it's revealed she's gone rogue, they will likely abandon her...or at the very least stay out of the fight until the situation has been cleared up. Some might even step in on our behalf."

"I would not count on that happening," Camdessus said. "The Watch has a proud tradition of staying out politics, and never getting involved when there are schisms."

"They simply wait until the dust clears and the new master has taken the seat," René said with a nod. "Much like the constables in the Shades do when a gang tries to eliminate another. They wait, and then collect bribes from whoever emerges as the victor."

"Despicable," Ayla said with disgust.

"Indeed."

"All right, so we will be alone if it comes to a fight," Kafei said, leaning against the corner of René's desk. "Can we take them?"

Sheik glanced around the room. He did not see much optimism about their chances in the others, so he cleared his throat. "We took out quite a few of her men in the sewer ambush," he said. "I'm not sure of the exact number, but—"

"I counted at least twelve dead, and several wounded," Ascal said quickly, grinning. "We put up one hell of a fight, and when Wolfy here went all-out—"

Link growled. He didn't like to be reminded of the moment he'd lost control and transformed into what had apparently been the real shape of a wolfos and gone on a rampage. Sheik didn't blame him, the vague description Link had offered was...unpleasant at best, horrifying at worst.

"We took out many, is my point," Ascal said, shifting gears easily with a languid smile. "Last I checked, Dehl kept a retinue of about thirty trained operatives with her. Assuming we actually killed and injured as many as twenty, she is down to her last ten. Not nearly enough to fight all of us."

"That's not accounting for any she may have hired since she arrived here, though," Tira interjected. "For all we know, she's replenished her strength already."

"Possibly, but they won't be trained for the sort of hell we'll unleash on them, should she try to pit them against us."

"You sound very sure of this," Kaura said, looking at him suspiciously.

"I am," Ascal confirmed. "I _did_ sire Dehl, after all. I know her."

"Not well enough to predict her betrayal," Sheik said nastily, and Link huffed in agreement beside him, flashing Ascal a tooth-filled grin that'd send anyone else scrabbling away with their tail between their legs. The vampire didn't even falter, shaking his head.

"No, that one I did not see, but if anything it has made me re-evaluate her, and I am confident that she has no more surprises to offer."

"Famous last words," Ayla muttered, making Eren and Nikal snicker.

"Regardless," Camdessus said, "that is my suggestion. Get me to that assembly, and this could all be over by suppertime today."

"It sounds too easy," Elenwe said.

"And how are you planning on getting us inside the palace?" Sheik added. "I somehow don't think a ragtag group of hunters will be allowed to just waltz through the gates and into the council chambers."

"That will not be a problem," Camdessus said confidently, flashing the ring on his left ring finger. "Dehl may have my seal, but I still have my signet ring. This will get us inside, regardless of our appearances."

"Then why haven't you gone before?" Ayla asked. "Surely you'd be safe from her there?"

"The situation with the palace guards is very much the same as it is with the Watch—not all of them are as loyal to the Crown as they should be," Camdessus said. "And as for why I haven't gone before...well, it was only recently I was able to escape her clutches thanks to Eren and Nikal, and we have been too busy trying not to get caught until now. There have also not been any council sessions since then, and it is only with their support we can oust her."

"Why not contact the council members now, without having to go to the palace?" René asked.

"She'll be keeping their estates under close watch, to ensure Jerewin doesn't try to reach out to them," Ascal said. "He won't even get _close_ to them. The palace is too big for her to lock down like that. With the amount of traffic going in and out of that place, she'll never see us coming."

"So, the palace is our only option, then? Getting him to the assembly?" Elenwe asked.

"So it would seem," Kafei said, nodding with a conflicted look on his face.

"Well, that settles it, then," the one-armed Gerudo said. "Plan A it is."

Her husband looked at her with a grimace. "What? E, we can't just—"

"We don't have a plan B, nor a plan C," she said. "Nor do we have the time to think of any. It's only a matter of time before we're spotted, or the Watch comes knocking because it's really suspicious that a brothel's been closed for seemingly no reason several days in a row. The brat is right—this is the best chance we'll get to take the bitch, before she reinforces her grip on this place."

Camdessus didn't look amused at being called a brat, but he made no comment. Sheik watched him for a moment, noticing the clear struggle he had to put up in order to avoid looking at Ascal. The lord was angry, that much was obvious, but there was longing there as well. Not surprising, if Ascal's stories were true, having been there since Camdessus' birth.

Kafei looked like he wanted to argue with Elenwe for a long moment before sighing. "Yeah, I've got nothing else. Given enough time, I suppose we would have come up with some sort of plan for getting inside the palace, but without Lord Camdessus or the council, we'll get nowhere. The vampire's too powerful to fight in the streets too, so..." He looked at the rest of them. "All in favour of Lord Camdessus' plan?"

"You're in charge, Kaf," Sheik said. "We'll go where you lead."

"This will be dangerous," Kafei protested. "I don't feel comfortable _ordering_ any of you to follow."

"I do," Elenwe chirped happily. "Everyone, we're going to the palace!" She then fixed Camdessus with the fiercest glare Sheik had ever seen—not even _Impa's_ had been this scary. "And you, brat," she said dangerously. "You set even a foot out of line, I'll show you why making an enemy of the hunters is a _very_ bad idea! Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Camdessus said immediately, paling noticeably at the threat.

"Good boy!" she cooed.

"Are we done terrifying him now?" Ascal asked, annoyed. "So, assuming the assembly is at noon we have..." he glanced at the clock. "About ten hours to plan and prepare."

At that moment, Ard, Erd, and Lor entered the office, a small crate containing small glass bottles carried between the twins. They set it carefully on René's desk, after which Erd pulled one of them out, showing the occupants of the room the clear liquid within. "It took some doing, but they're done," he announced.

"And those are...?" Sheik asked, trying not to feel offended at the way Lor avoided looking at him. He had more reasons than most to be uncomfortable around vampires, and Sheik couldn't let it get to him. He just had to show Lor that he wasn't dangerous, no matter how much time it would take.

"A special concoction developed by the old hunters," Erd elaborated. "It's had many names and monikers over the centuries, but the one that describes it best, I feel, is the name _Exceeder_. Roughly put, it allows one's body to bypass its natural limits, pushing past the many thresholds that hold it back. With it, you will be faster, stronger, perhaps even smarter. Your reflexes will certainly improve, and your senses are sharpened. In short, it forces your body to exceed your normal expectations." He frowned a bit upon seeing the excited faces of the hunters. " _However_..."

"I _knew_ there had to be a catch," Ayla muttered.

"If used excessively, it will do more harm than good," Erd finished, ignoring the interruption. "Our natural thresholds are there for a reason, after all, and going past them too fast, too long, can result in irreparable damage."

"Try lifting too much and ignore the pain, your muscles tear in half," Ard said, succinctly putting a horrible image in everyone's heads. "No way to repair that."

"He's right on that account," Kaura piped up. "There's only so much one can do with needle and thread."

"I've seen hunters indulging excessively in the potion before," Ascal piped up, his arms crossed and regarding the bottles with distaste. "The results are...unpleasant for everyone involved. I once saw a man snap his own spine under the influence of that drug. One moment he was standing, the next he was a broken pile on the ground, back bent over the _wrong way_. I do not recommend drinking it unless it's an emergency."

Lor nodded with a grunt, his agreement begrudging. "That's what it's meant for—a last resort, in case you find yourself facing Dehl alone. If there is another way out of the situation, do _not_ drink it."

"So that's all the old hunters left us for hunting vampires, is it?" Sheik asked, not very impressed.

"There are tools and strategies, but we do not have the time or resources to have the tools made," Erd said.

"And the strategies can't be applied to this situation," Ard added.

"It's all a bit out of date, anyway," Ascal finished. "Dating from a time when walkers were more common, from before the Accord. Really, there is only one thing you need to know when you face her: when in doubt, shoot her in the head."

"It's all we were able to come up with on such short notice," Erd said, putting the bottle back in the crate. "There's one for each of you, here. Link, Sheik, I have no idea what will happen if one of _you_ drink it, but there's bottles for you as well."

"They won't need it," Ascal said smoothly.

"You sound confident," Ard noted.

"I am."

Despite Ascal's words, Sheik and Link each took a bottle (so small they fit in the palms of their hands) and put them away in their pockets. Sheik had no idea what his limits were yet, and he was still recovering. Chances were he'd need an extra burst of strength or speed, and if the Exceeder was the key to that, then...

"Right, we really don't have much time," Kafei announced. "Who has the city map? We need to plan our route to the palace, and then figure out how to best lay a trap for her."

"I have some ideas about that too, actually," Camdessus said, stepping closer.

* * *

"Lor?"

Lor couldn't hide his flinch, and he wanted nothing more than to run in the exact opposite direction of the voice, but...well, he couldn't avoid it forever. He slowly turned to face Sheik, who was smiling hopefully at him. It was the same smile Lor had seen so many times before, the smile he'd come to find comforting whenever he'd had a bad day at the Temple. Now, though, his mind tainted it with the knowledge that behind those lips was a set of teeth made for ripping throats out and drain the owners of their blood.

Sheik could look as normal and innocent as he wanted, it still wouldn't change the fact that Ascal had taken him and made him a monster, just like himself.

Sheik bore no love for the old vampire—that much was obvious in his demeanour around Ascal and his biting words, but there was no looking past that they were the same. Would be the same. Sheik was acting like his usual self now, but what if it was all an act? Had he been fooling the others into believing he was still the same old Sheik they'd all known for years? Or perhaps he really was the same Sheik as before...only to be turned and twisted by the passage of time.

He might not even be aware of the change, if it were gradual—fifty years from now, would he _still_ be the Sheikah that Lor called a friend, or would he have been warped into another, younger version of Ascal by then? Lor knew nothing about vampires, save for the fact that out of the three currently in Castle Town, two of them were utterly evil. Odds were that Sheik was or would become just like them, sooner or later.

Lor wasn't sure his heart could take it, if that happened.

Everything was happening so fast, now. The hunters around them were a blur as they worked on preparing for the ambush at the assembly, hastily cleaning and performing makeshift repairs of their equipment, discussing their plans and making changes whenever a new piece of information was discovered, or a strategy proved to be futile in the face of a fight the hunters had never been in before.

"Sheik," he said, wishing his voice didn't tremble so much. Especially when he was unsure of _why_ it was shaking in the first place. Out of fear? Excitement? Anger? Those, and a million other emotions, were fluttering in and out of his chest every second, and he'd found himself restlessly pacing the corridors. "Something wrong?" he added, wishing Sheik would go away. He wasn't ready for this.

"Apart from everything?" Sheik said, his smile turning into a crooked grin, fully aware of the absurdity of the situation they found themselves in. "I just...want to make sure things are all right between us."

He could lie. He could say that everything was fine and pretend he wasn't bothered at all, go through the motions and hope to the Goddesses that he would never be stuck in a room alone with Sheik, but he had a feeling he'd be discovered soon enough, and...well, despite everything, Sheik still deserved the truth, if only for the friendship they'd once shared. That Lor had hoped would remain, despite every cell of his brain telling him to run the fuck away from the vampire standing in front of him.

"No," he said quietly. "They aren't."

Sheik's shoulders sagged visibly, and he leaned his shoulder against the wall, looking down. "I was afraid of that," he said, disappointment clear in his voice. "Is it something I've said or done...?"

"You know it's not," Lor said quickly. "It's what _he_ did to you, what he turned you into."

"Would you have preferred that I died?" Sheik asked, still staring at his boots.

"No," Lor said firmly. Aware of how nothing he said or thought made sense, everything clashing, he _definitely_ would not have wanted Sheik to die down there, in the cold, damp darkness. "I just...I just wish there had been a different way to save you. That _he_ hadn't been involved."

Sheik chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah, I find myself wishing that as well..." He finally looked up at Lor again, catching his eyes. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid of you," Lor said, leaving an unspoken _yet_ hanging in the air. "I'm just...afraid of what you might become. If you'll become like him, given enough time. That you won't even know before it's too late, and you'll be trapped."

Sheik nodded slowly. "I...understand that, actually. I wish there was something I could say or do to prove to you that I won't, that there was some sort of guarantee I could give you, but...I can't, other than a firm promise that I have no _intention_ of becoming like him. I haven't changed here," he tapped the side of his head, "or here," he tapped on his chest, right above his heart.

"Only time will tell that, I guess," Lor said, surprised at the small amount of relief that filled him at Sheik's words. His friend had never been a liar, and he spoke with the same conviction he had ever since they'd met. He wanted so badly to believe Sheik. "I'm...wary...I guess."

"I would be too," Sheik replied.

"So...what should we do?" Lor asked, feeling helpless. He just wanted things to go back to normal, like they'd been before.

"I will do whatever I can to make you comfortable," Sheik said without hesitation. "Whether that means staying away from you, or at least remaining at a respectable distance, doesn't matter. Lor...you're my best friend—I don't want to lose you."

There was not a hint of dishonesty in his words, and Lor could feel his defences crumbling quickly. Sheik looked vulnerable in a way he rarely, if ever, let anyone else see. Only Lor had been granted that privilege...and, more than likely at this point, Link, but Lor was willing to share it with the Hylian.

"I...don't know what I want," Lor said honestly. "It hasn't even been two days...I still need time to adjust."

"Of course," Sheik said. "I'd be lying if I said I was entirely used to being...this...myself." He gestured to himself in a hopeless way. "It all comes down to time, doesn't it?"

Lor nodded. "Yeah. It's all about time."

He could only hope they wouldn't run out of it by noon, when, judging by their record so far, all hell would break loose once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My prediction for the next chapter: The hunters execute their plan (and all hell breaks loose).**


	77. The Heir

"Well, this is certainly glamorous." Elenwe wrinkled her nose as she stepped off the ladder and onto the wet stone, stained by substances and fluids one was not meant to know. "And to think I once considered a hunter's life devoid of such magnificence."

"Your commentary is, once again, much appreciated," Sheik said, his nose tucked firmly into his collar, where he'd hidden a pouch of strong-smelling herbs. It was meant to stave off the smell of the sewers, but he found it did exceedingly little to protect his sensitive nose. He felt a pang of pity for Link, whose sense of smell was even stronger than his.

"She tells it like it is," Ascal said, waiting a little further ahead. "I like her." If he blinked, he'd miss, but Sheik saw the slight twitch of his nose as he caught another whiff of the lovely odour permeating the area.

"That's not the badge of honour you think it is," she replied, her face souring slightly. "Okay, north, right?"

"That's right," Sheik said. "The others will have left signs marking their passage." He pointed to the wall next to Ascal, where a small **x** was scratched into the stone at eye height. "Like that one."

Ascal looked at it, raising an eyebrow. "How did you even see that?" he asked as Sheik brushed past him and headed down the passage in near-darkness, the only source of light being the lantern attached to Elenwe's belt, the flame turned almost entirely down.

"It's that world-famous Sheikah night vision," Elenwe said, rolling her eyes as she took up the rear. "Kafei's always so smug when he gets to use it, lording it over us. Not that it stops him from tripping over roots and high thresholds, though. Guess clumsiness runs in the family, huh?"

"One time," Sheik said with a sigh, wondering when they'd stop bringing up that particular event. "One time, I trip and fall and it's haunted me ever since."

"And nearly crippled yourself in the process," she reminded him. "I mean, you weren't even in a hurry. How did you miss that step?"

Sheik mumbled under his breath.

"What's that?" Ascal asked cheerfully.

"I was daydreaming," he said again, louder. "I was pretending that I was stalking a lycan through the halls and I got...carried away."

Elenwe snorted. "If that doesn't confirm that you're Kafei's family, I don't know what will."

"It's not funny," Sheik protested. "My knee's been stiff ever since."

"How is that feeling now, though?" Ascal said, his tone innocent.

Sheik made to reply in a scathing manner, but as he took another step with his left, he realised that the familiar stiffness and (occasionally) accompanying ache had been absent ever since...since... He closed his mouth, absently rubbing a finger over his cheek, where the burn he'd gotten from the controller had completely disappeared. That had been a bit of a shock, when it had been pointed out to him.

_Seems he healed more than just the gut shot,_ he thought.

Most of his scars had disappeared as well. The only ones that remained were the deep puncture wounds from Kaerwall, but even those had been reduced to mere dimples in his skin. He wasn't sure how he felt about that—he'd always appreciated the reminder to never let his guard down.

"That's what I thought," Ascal said when Sheik did not reply. "You're welcome, by the way."

"If you're expecting gratitude—"

"I fail to see why I am not entitled to even a small _thank you_ ," the elder vampire said with a sniff...which he immediately regretted when the smell of the sewer assaulted his senses immediately afterwards. "I mean, you'd be dead now if it weren't for me."

"If it weren't for you, I would haven't been in this position to begin with," Sheik said. He spotted another marker and guided them down the corresponding passage.

"If it weren't for me—"

"Oh for...will you two stop that?!" Elenwe hissed. "We have more important things to worry about than your damn _feelings_ , Az."

The way Ascal's eyes bulged at the nickname was hilarious, and Sheik stifled a snort. "I beg your _pardon_?" the elder vampire said, sounding outraged.

"One syllable is better and faster to say than two," the Gerudo replied innocently. "Hell, I'd reduce you to _A_ if it weren't such a common sound, so...Az."

She pronounced it like arse. Suddenly, Sheik liked his kind of-sort of sister-in-law even more. He grinned and continued leading the way.

The sewers had been their best bet for getting near the palace unseen. Street level was far too closely guarded, and the moment they were spotted, be it by a watchman or one of Dehl's men, it'd all be over. They'd agreed to move in groups of three, to avoid suspicion when they entered through the manhole, and would meet up by their designated rendezvous, which would place them a block away from the palace gates.

Kafei had gone first with Link and Lord Camdessus, followed by Tira, Ayla, and Kaura (who had griped about the plan the entire time, unable to convince Ayla that she needed to rest). Lor, Ard, Erd, Eren, and Nikal would take up the rear, moving approximately half an hour after Sheik and his group. The five of them were there in a support capacity, rather than to fight—refusing to stay behind and do nothing. Sheik had tried to make Eren and Nikal remain behind, at the very least, but those two had chosen a particularly unfortunate movement to develop a defiant streak, respectfully telling him to shove that order a certain place where sunlight was not abundant.

Then again, if everything went according to plan— _hah!_ —there would be no need to fight at all. Dehl would be captured without the need for bloodshed. The chances of that happening were approximately nil, of course, but one was allowed to dream, right?

To everyone's relief, Ascal did not dignify his new nickname with an answer, simply huffing and squaring his shoulders, following Sheik in silence. It was almost blissful...if it hadn't been for the literal river of shit they were skirting. The good thing was that Kafei had made sure to mark their path thoroughly, and save for one particularly confusing crossroads (where no less than seven streets intersected in one giant, confusing mess) they had no trouble following them.

It took about an hour before they spotted a light in the distance. A moment later, there was the distinct sound of a pistol being cocked, followed by a voice calling out: "Cave troll!"

"Spears!" Sheik called in response. The countersign planning had been relegated to the last few minutes of their meeting, unfortunately, and it showed.

"Come on up," the voice responded. "Took you long enough," Tira said, her face appearing from a small alcove created by a pair of pillars, nowhere near the lantern she'd set up to draw the attention of anyone who approached. "Run into trouble?"

"None whatsoever," he replied as she led them to the to the ladder. The manhole at the top was closed. "Which sort of worries me."

"I'm sure we'll find plenty of trouble once we're inside," she assured him. "The others are waiting topside." She patted Sheik's shoulder, and she only hesitated for a split second this time, which was definitely progress. "I'll wait for the rest and then join you."

"Is the sun up?" Ascal asked suddenly, just as Sheik touched the lower rungs of the ladder.

"Should have crested the ridge half an hour ago," she replied. "So...hats on, I suppose?"

"And collars up," Ascal confirmed, looking pointedly at Sheik who nodded. "Unless you want the worst sunburn of your life, that is."

"That bad, huh?" Elenwe asked as Ascal adjusted his hat and collar so only his eyes and a narrow strip of skin were visible, protecting the rest of him from the sun.

"Just a few minutes is enough to feel like you've fallen asleep in the sun for hours," the elder vampire said, reaching out to stop Sheik from climbing once more. "One last thing, little brother," he said, reaching into his satchel and digging around for a moment before withdrawing what appeared to be a pair of spectacles...only instead of regular lenses, the glass was dark, almost black. "Your eyes will be very sensitive to it for the next few weeks. I figured you'd want to, you know, actually _see_ something up there?"

Sheik took the offered spectacles, carefully opening them and putting them on. A veil of shadow was immediately cast over the sewer and the faces in front of him, their features barely visible in the dark. "Thanks?" he said slowly, not really sure if he needed them.

"Believe me, you'll thank me once we get up there," Ascal said, closing his satchel. Through the smoky lenses, Sheik saw a rather thick pile of papers within, along with the vampire's spare bullets and powder.

"What are those papers for?" he asked.

"Oh, just a little speech I've prepared for my wayward daughter," he replied with a grin. "It's always important to have them ready, so you're able to admonish your kin on the spot to maximise the shame. Ensures they learn their lesson. I've got a few in there for _you_ as well, should you mess this up."

"I prefer improvising, myself," Elenwe said, as if it were a perfectly normal thing Ascal had just explained. "Some of the best swears are invented that way."

"I see the gift of eloquence is lost on you," Ascal said with a sigh, looking at Sheik. "Well? Go on, or do you want your cousin to come down here and get you?"

Sheik scowled, beginning his climb. At the top, he knocked on the manhole cover and began pushing at it. Almost immediately, someone else pulled it up and aside, grasping hands reaching down to pull him out. He nearly gasped when the weak morning sunlight reached his eyes, nearly blinding him despite the smoky lenses. The skin of his face that wasn't covered by his hat or collar immediately began to tingle and burn, and he wrenched his face aside, covering himself up.

"Here," Kafei's voice said, pulling him aside and into blissful darkness once more. "Let's get you into the shade."

Sheik opened his eyes, relieved to find himself in the shade of a solid wall, one of the extensions of the palace gates. Camdessus, Ayla, and Link were there as well. Link immediately began inspecting Sheik with concerned eyes, signing.

**All right?**

"I'm fine," Sheik said quietly, aware that their position was quite vulnerable, the courtyard barely covered from view by its stone fence. "Sun's pretty strong," he offered as an explanation (even though the sun was, likely, at its weakest right now), tapping the spectacles.

Link nodded, pulling away only far enough so that he wasn't smothering him.

"Up you get," Kaura said from her position by the manhole, reaching down to pull Elenwe out. She was closely followed by Ascal, who received no help from either of them. He didn't seem to mind, though, and he slid the lid back to cover the manhole with a mere shove of his boot, like the thing wasn't solid metal and heavy as all hell.

"So," Ascal said as he joined the rest of them in the shade and out of view of the streets beyond the courtyard. "How are things looking on this end?"

"Looking good so far," Ayla replied. "Traffic's picking up, and as far as we can tell there aren't any real lookouts except the palace guards. No one obvious, at least." She shifted against the wall, her leg likely aching something fierce. She just hoped she wouldn't accidentally re-open the stitched wound—he couldn't smell any blood on her so far, which was a good sign, at least. "Provided we don't fire off celebratory gunshots when we get inside, we might just pull this off."

The matter of Lord Camdessus being escorted by a ragtag band of heavily armed individuals consisting of two Gerudo, two Sheikah, and an assorted mix of Hylians and humans was likely not to be overlooked, and they'd discussed at length how they would pass off such a thing as normal.

It wasn't perfect, but in the end they figured the excuse would be that a distant southern relative of Jerewin's had sent a group of warriors from a secretive monastery to protect him, in light of the disturbances plaguing Hyrule as of late. It was a favour from family to family, as well as a diplomatic gesture that would incur goodwill with the main branch of House Camdessus.

As long as he had his ring and wore the somewhat noble-looking outfit Madame René had managed to wrangle up from the piles and piles of clothing her clients sometimes left behind, any excuse he could come up with was believable, but the presence of Gerudo and Sheikah was bound to make some of the guards nervous. Hopefully, this would deflect some of the suspicion.

"Just waiting for the others, now," Camdessus said, looking out through a hole in the brickwork, tapping his hands anxiously against his thighs.

Ascal's jaw clenched, and Sheik could see the desire in the other vampire's eyes to go to his lord's side...but remained where he stood, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably. It was one of the few times his mask slipped, and Sheik wondered if the feeling was mutual on Camdessus' side, despite the bad blood (haha) between them.

Not that he cared about their personal issues, of course. He just wanted them to actually be able to work together to bring Dehl to justice. Sheik would exact his own justice on Ascal soon after, and Zelda would pass the final judgement on Camdessus, thus bringing an end to this farce.

_Why do I have a feeling it's not going to be that easy?_ he thought to himself, settling himself against the wall and closing his eyes to protect them from the stinging sunlight.

* * *

In the end, they'd had nothing to worry about, as the guards had taken on look at Camdessus' outfit, his regal bearing, and the signet ring on his finger before waving him (and his curious-looking retinue) through the gates and into the palace courtyard. They didn't even ask why the lord hadn't arrived in a coach, apparently finding nothing strange about pampered nobility moving about on their own power.

It went to show that given the right attitude, the right words, and the right clothes, one could go anywhere one desired, even when trailed by a heavily armed group of supposed "guards".

They ascended the stairs and entered the palace proper, exchanged proper greetings with the footman, following Camdessus as he led them towards the throne room, where Zelda had held court. It had been appropriated by the Interim Council for their use when holding grand assemblies, though they left the throne itself alone, the seat vacant for the next monarch (when one was found, that is, a process Camdessus himself had been actively hindering, as per the original plan before a wrench named Dehl had thrown herself into the works).

The throne room had not been opened for the gathering yet, and the attending nobles, merchants, and guild leaders were mingling in the halls leading to it. Many paused their conversations to greet Lord Camdessus, offering platitudes and their relief that he had recovered from his sickness so quickly, and questions as to the whereabouts of his lovely assistant and representative, the young lady in black.

"Oh, she is around here somewhere, I'm sure, currying favour with as many potential suitors she can," Camdessus had joked with a few of them, slipping into the role of politician far quicker and smoother than Sheik had anticipated, given the nervous mess the older man had been a mere few hours before. "An ambitious lady she is, my dear Dehl."

"I shall be keeping an eye out for her, then, my lord," the man, a fat merchant from the north, said with a wink. "It's about time I settled down anyway, and with her influence..."

"Please, do let me know if you see her," Camdessus said, smiling back. "We have some business to discuss before the assembly begins, you see."

"I shall send her your way if I do."

"Thank you, Mister Ardent, I shall be in your debt."

"Any sign of her?" Sheik whispered to Link, marching beside him, right behind Camdessus.

Link grunted no as he signed, **Can't smell her either.**

"If she catches hint of what we're planning before we can move into position, it's all over. Let me know if you catch even a hint of her scent."

Link huffed, as if saying _of course_.

Sheik fell silent as they passed a very familiar alcove near the palace gardens, where he and Link had...

He caught Link noticing it as well, and the grin the Hylian sent him at the memory could be described as utterly wolfish. Fitting, really, but Sheik still had to fight down a blush. Not really the appropriate time to drag his lover away and _canoodle_ , as he'd called it back then.

They went further along the corridors, eventually reaching the heart of the palace. A staircase by the grand doors led to the gallery upstairs, which overlooked the throne room. Ayla and Kaura separated from the group at this point. The Gerudo's limp was neatly hidden by Kaura supporting her, and the very impressive array of pistols they'd brought were hidden in the doctor's bag, beneath an equally impressive amount of medical equipment.

Lor, Ard, and Erd went with them, also carrying an assortment of powder arms. The five of them would be the ranged support, hopefully out of harm's way in the gallery. According to Ascal, Dehl would be keeping her remaining men close by, and he doubted she'd send any of them upstairs.

"Break a leg, guys," Ayla said, only wincing a little when her injured one touched down on a step a little too hard.

"Just don't break _yours_ , and we'll be fine," Kaura told her, dragging her up.

They received some strange looks from the other people in the hall, but they were the sort of looks one gave funny-looking foreigners who had no idea how to behave in civilised society—pitying and amused.

The rest of the hunting party followed Camdessus closely as he approached the guards standing in front of the main door to the throne room, clearing his throat. "I am Jerewin Camdessus of House Camdessus, leader of the Interim Council. You may open the doors and let the attendees in, now," he told the lead man, a sergeant judging by his uniform.

"My lord, I cannot—"

Jerewin frowned and held his ring aloft. "My good man, we are running late as it is, and it will take forever for everyone to file into the throne room as it is. Let us hurry this along, hm?"

The sergeant hesitated, eyes widening at the sight of the ring before saluting and turning to his men. "Open the doors," he ordered, and they obeyed. As they opened the massive doors, the sergeant turned to Camdessus, nodded, and then called to the rest of the men and women in the hall. "My lords and ladies, the doors are now open! Please enter in an orderly fashion!"

"Good boy," Elenwe intoned quietly as they were swept up in the crowd and pushed through the doors, into the throne room. The marble floor and stone walls ensured that the noise quickly grew deafening, and the sheer amount of people attending the assembly quickly filled the throne room in a way Sheik hadn't seen, even when Zelda held court.

"Lots of foreign businessmen here," Kafei noted as they pushed their way through the crowd. "Methinks Dehl has been arranging more than a few trade agreements." He jerked his head towards a man wearing a loose-fitting, bright yellow tunic, his long, black beard braided and tied into several knots, much like his hair. "That one's from Maurino."

"Slavers," Sheik hissed.

"Yes," Kafei agreed, eyes flashing dangerously. "All right, time to disperse. You two are with Camdessus," he said, pointing to Link and Sheik. "Tira, Elenwe, and myself will be in the crowds. You remember the signal?"

"We do," Sheik confirmed.

"Good—Eren and Nikal will be close by," Kafei continued, and Sheik noticed that his two little assistants had slipped away from the retinue already, dispersing among the attendees. They were dressed as apprentices; spoiled noble brats too bored with the proceedings to behave properly. No one would expect them to be the dangerous little fighters they actually were, hopefully catching Dehl's men off-guard. "Guess this is it," he said, bumping Sheik's shoulder with his own. "Good luck."

"Good luck," Sheik intoned. "Don't get yourself killed—Elenwe will never forgive me."

"I'll try."

"I will take my leave too," Ascal said, suddenly beside him. "Dehl will easily recognise me and my scent—need to cover it up."

"If you leave..." Sheik said warningly.

"Wouldn't dream of it after coming so far, little brother," he said smugly. "Just going to stay out of sight, is all." He paused, mouth turning down as he leaned closer, so only Sheik could hear his next words, "Protect Jerewin, all right?"

"I'll try," Sheik said, repeating his cousin's words. It was the best promise he could offer, given the circumstances.

Link lightly bumped his shoulder after Ascal had gone, hands moving slowly as he signed. **I smell something.**

"Dehl?" Sheik asked.

**No. Something else. Gunpowder.**

Sheik tried not to smile. "Link, I'm practically carrying my own bodyweight in powder and bullets," he said, keeping his voice low as to not alarm the other dignitaries. "It's no wonder you're smelling that. Come on, we have to keep up with Camdessus."

Link blinked. As Sheik turned to follow the lord at a brisk pace, he failed to spot the look of apprehension on his lover's face, and the last words he signed.

**It's not coming from** _**you.** _

* * *

Something was wrong. Dehl had shivered the moment she entered the palace with her men, disguised as her assistants, all wearing the colours of House Camdessus. Of her original thirty, only nine remained. The rest had been hastily recruited after the disaster at the cistern, though it was with some reluctance that she'd even armed them in the first place. Pub brawlers, retired soldiers with more personal issues than an asylum...not the sort she wanted at her back, but she was desperate.

The hunters had practically disappeared after the ambush, and she had no idea where Jerewin was hiding. The chances of them having met up were remote, but Dehl hadn't gotten where she was without acting a little paranoid, which was why she'd sent Avi ahead to the palace the night before, carrying Jerewin's seal to ensure he was allowed entry. He'd prepared a little surprise with the assistance of a few guardsmen who'd been amenable to her cause, in case something...untoward happened during the assembly. Avi had returned and reported his success, so she had at least one plan to fall back on.

All but two of her fifteen men dispersed among the crowds in the corridors, trying to blend in with varying degrees of success. Not that their covertness mattered all that much—it wasn't _her_ presence that was a problem.

She carried the bundle of papers under her arm as she strode towards the throne room, her bearing one of purpose. Very few would dare to bother her like this. She belonged here.

It gave her pause, then, when she found the doors to the throne room opened wide, the massive room inside nearly filled to the brim. The guards standing outside were watching her approach nervously, surely recognising her from an earlier occasion she couldn't be bothered to remember.

"Why are these doors open?" she demanded.

"Lord Camdessus ordered them to be opened, miss," the sergeant on duty ordered.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she scowled, pushing past him and inside the throne room. If that little snivelling shit Jerewin was in here, she was going to wring his neck and tear his head off—

She paused, still trying to push her way through the mass of people who had gathered for the assembly. Personal hygiene was clearly not a major issue for many of them...but beneath the stench of perfume, sweat, and general unwashed bodies...there was...

Ascal.

She could pick out his scent anywhere. So, the old man had survived the ambush as well, and clearly met up with Jerewin. Which definitely meant the hunters were here as well. Clenching her jaw, she touched the collar of her shirt. Around her neck, a whistle hung on a thin chain. All wasn't lost yet. She just had to handle this delicately...or not, depending on how she felt at the moment.

Perhaps she'd been fooling herself, thinking she could keep the charade going after what happened at the cistern. Perhaps Avi had been right, that they should have—

The doors slamming shut somewhere behind her, signalling the beginning of the assembly, put a stop to her train of thought, and she focused on the present. Her men were still dispersing through the crowd, the two she trusted the most at her back (Avi on her right, Kerwin on her left)...no, she still had a chance. It just needed to be handled the correct way. She smiled.

She was still glad she'd brought her weapons.

* * *

"The grand assembly will now begin!" a guardsman wearing a ceremonial outfit announced loudly, slamming the butt of his halberd into the floor, immediately silencing the buzz of conversation and general noise of the throne room. A few whispers in the gallery were quickly shushed as well. "This public meeting of the Interim Council is called to order, the honourable Lord Jerewin Camdessus presiding!"

The council members' seats were arranged in a half-circle facing the rest of the room on the raised dais of the throne's platform, some distance away from the actual throne itself, to signify that none of the members thought themselves equal to royalty. Their power was only temporary, after all. Lord Camdessus' seat was in the middle, positioned to mark his authority as the council leader.

As a group, the lords emerged from the crowd and took their seats, with Camdessus taking his last after exchanging greetings with the other members. Sheik and Link were positioned behind his chair, just far enough to not draw attention to themselves (though given the generally shabby appearance of their leathers, compared to the liveries and uniforms of the other council members' house guards, this was difficult).

Contrary to the nervous wreck of a man Camdessus had been at the Temple, he seemed perfectly at ease in front of the hundreds of attendees, taking his seat with his hands folded and a pleasant smile beaming at the audience.

"My lords and ladies, pillars of the community, my dearest friends," he announced in a clear voice. "In the past few months, the Interim Council have held closed meetings in order to best establish procedures and a chain of command that will last until we have found our next monarch. These procedures have now been established, and our meetings will now be open to the public. I officially bid you all welcome to the first of these meetings."

This was met with polite applause from the crowd.

As Camdessus rambled on with the formalities (which were apparently required in occasions like these), Sheik let his eyes drift over the people gathered here. Here and there, he spotted men and women dressed in Camdessus' colours, but they never stood still long enough for him to pinpoint them. Every now and then he spotted Kafei or one of the others, also drifting through the crowd, hoping to find Dehl before it was too late. He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of Nikal lingering somewhere on the side, her hand deep in the pocket of a nobleman who was completely unaware that he was being robbed.

For a moment, he wondered if Nikal had been a moneylender or something similar in an earlier life, given her clear drive to acquire as much material wealth as she could, even if it meant terrorising poor Eren into paying his gambling debt to her. That alone was a mess he did not even _want_ to touch, much less try to clear up.

Next to him, Link's nostrils were flaring as he tried to seek out Dehl's scent, which he'd apparently caught at the cistern, despite the smell of sewage that permeated the area. When asked how'd done that, Link hadn't answered, simply claiming he'd gotten lucky. Sheik gave Link a quizzical look, but the Hylian simply shook his head. Nothing yet. He drifted back into listening to Camdessus, relieved that he was finishing up the necessary protocols.

"...will be transcribed and notarised by the inimitable Lady Farris, who has been kind enough to offer her services," Camdessus said, gesturing to the noblewoman and her small group of attendants a little off to the side of the dais, where they sat ready with pen and paper to transcribe the meeting. "Thank you, my lady."

"It is an honour, Lord Camdessus," the middle-aged woman replied, nodding as she filled her pen and put it against paper, ready to begin.

"Very good," Camdessus said, clearing his throat before looking at the throne room at large. Even without seeing his eyes, Sheik knew the lord was scanning the room for any sign of Dehl.

Taking a step closer to Link, Sheik whispered, "There are men wearing his colours out there, be ready."

Link raised his thumb in acknowledgement, his left hand flexing, ready to draw his sword. The Zukov had been left at the Temple, the bulky weapon drawing far too much attention for it to be useful in this situation. He hadn't been happy, but Link had accepted the single pistol Sheik had offered him. The Sheikah doubted it would ever be used.

"Now," Camdessus continued, "I am afraid we will be deviating quite a bit from today's agenda, for a matter of utmost importance that takes precedence over all others must be addressed immediately."

A curious murmur rippled through the crowd.

He waited until it died down and opened his mouth to speak again...and froze. Sheik followed his gaze with his own, and spotted the cause. Dehl was there, standing off to the right, nearly hidden by a pair of burly representatives from the Terminan trade guild. She had a calm look on her face, her head moving slowly from side to side, warning him not to do it. A tiny smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth, a signal.

_It's not too late,_ she was saying. _We can still put this behind us. Don't do it._

For a moment, it looked as if Camdessus was about to agree, that he would abandon their plan and let her have the reins once more, and Sheik immediately began scouting for his fellow hunters. Surely he wasn't the only one who had noticed her? Link had gone stiff, a quiet growl reverberating in his chest, but in their position they couldn't do anything without triggering a fight—and in these quarters that was the last thing they wanted.

Then Camdessus came to his senses, cleared his throat, and gave her a fierce glare as he spoke, "I'm afraid I have been lying to you all—all for the sake of the realm, of course. Princess Zelda is not dead!"

The room exploded in a roar of noise as every single attendee began shouting in surprise, shock, and outrage.

"You lie!"

"How dare you?!"

"Why haven't we been informed?!"

The other council members were perturbed by this news as well, looking alternatively to Camdessus and each other for guidance and answers. Lady Farris and her attendants were writing furiously, desperately trying to keep up with the words that were assaulting them from every direction. In the gallery, the crowd was swaying back and forth, a small fight erupting between a pair of noblemen. Sheik spotted Kaura's purple bun somewhere among them, but she quickly disappeared.

"Order! Order!" the guardsman shouted, smacking his halberd into the floor again and again, so loud it hurt Sheik's ears (not to mention Link's). "We will have order, or you will be ejected from this room! Order!"

Sheik kept his eyes on Dehl, watching her carefully. She did not move from her spot, but her entire posture had gone rigid, her amber eyes narrowing in anger, her jaw clenching.

"What is the meaning of this, my lord?" one of the other council members asked. The young man was clearly out of his depth, desperately looking to his senior for help. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that Princess Zelda did _not_ perish in the fire at her summer home at Lake Hylia after all," Camdessus said, the room falling silent at his words.

"They found her body!" someone shouted.

"They found _a_ body," Camdessus corrected. "The body of Sera, the princess' double, trained to take her place in case of emergencies and to distract assassins...and she certainly performed her duties to the letter."

At the word _assassins_ , an even deeper hush fell over the room, so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Sheik liked to think that, if he were closer, he'd hear Dehl grinding her teeth. Her eyes had not left Camdessus for a moment. A man at her shoulder was trying to get her attention, but she firmly ignored him. Sheik recognised him based on his description. Avi. Her second-in-command.

"Assassins, my lord?" another council member asked, her voice trembling a little as she cast a nervous glance in Dehl's direction. She was privy to the truth, then, even though she was trying to play along. "Surely you do not mean—"

"The fire was no accident," Camdessus forged on unheedingly, and Sheik was almost impressed. There was clearly backbone buried somewhere in that soft nobleman's body of his...just very deeply. "It was set to cover up any evidence of foul play. Make no mistake, Princess Zelda was to be assassinated, but Sera ensured it did not happen, giving her life for that of the princess."

"And the princess?" the man from Maurino asked, hand tugging nervously at his beard. He had no reason to be here now that Zelda, who was a vocal opponent of slavery; was revealed to be alive. He was likely to be run out of the city, in case she appeared right now. "Where is she now?"

"In hiding," Camdessus said. "Her safety is still at risk, so it was deemed necessary for her to remain at an undisclosed location until the ones responsible could be rooted out. And today, they have been." He looked at Dehl, who was practically seething now. Sheik enjoyed that look on her. "The assassin is here in this very room, right now."

As much as Sheik could appreciate being upset at finding themselves in the same room as an assassin, he found the attendees' reaction to it quite...overwrought. Men shouted and blustered, noble ladies fainted (or pretended to, at least), and a sheer wall of _noise_ threatened to give him a migraine. The guardsman's halberd was no help in this din, so Sheik did the only thing he imagined would. he drew one of his four pistols (hidden beneath his coat), pointed it at the ceiling, and fired. _That_ certainly made the room fall silent, all eyes drawn to him. As if on instinct upon realising he was a Sheikah, there were more than a few grimaces aimed in his direction.

"Indeed," Camdessus said, shoulders high with tension. "The assassin is here...in fact, she is standing right there!" he said, pointing a finger directly at the vampire. Immediately, those around her stepped away, forming a small circle of empty space around her...save for Avi and the other man at her shoulders. "Guards, seize her immediately!"

As Sheik had feared, there was no immediacy whatsoever to the guards' actions. Most shifted uncomfortably in their positions, while others _made_ to apprehend Dehl, but stopped upon seeing the lack of movement from their comrades. The nobles and other guests were frozen, absolutely useless. Sheik spotted the other hunters desperately trying to move through the crowd, but were having difficulty due to the press of bodies around them.

"Remember who pays your wages, men," Dehl said simply, smiling at the guards before focusing on Camdessus. "Well done, Jerewin," she said with mock-pride in her voice. "Very well done. You've finally grown some backbone. I'd say I'm proud, but...this also means you have betrayed me."

"Shut up!" the council member said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You murdered my father! And the princess!"

"Yes, I did," Dehl said lightly, as if the confession mattered not at all. Sheik wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in here right here and now, but there were too many people standing too close to her. He couldn't shoot without risking hitting someone else. "I murdered your father, and the princess' double...on the orders of Jerewin Camdessus!"

The outrage shifted, this time towards Camdessus, who bowed his head, fists clenched at his side. This was the moment that would decide which side the crowd would be on. "That is partially true," Camdessus said, his words wavering just a bit, clearly affected.

"I hired this woman to infiltrate and attack the princess' summer home, securing the princess' double...but she went _against_ the orders and murdered her instead! After which she blackmailed me into accepting her into my retinue! This council has made controversial decisions as of late, but it has all been as a result of _her_ influence, and _her_ hanging death threats over the other council members!"

He looked to his fellow councillors, as if begging them for help. "My lords and ladies...I apologise for the deception, but I assure you, the true enemy, the one responsible for all the misery, is standing down there, smiling at you!"

"She...has been a constant presence at the meetings, and in your home, as I understand it," the first council member said slowly, his eyes gliding from Dehl to Camdessus. "But, my lord, why did you not alert us to this? Surely you could have gotten a message out, or announced that—"

"I was afraid for my own life, and like a coward I followed her instructions—"

"I am but a hired blade of simple birth, plying my trade where I can," Dehl said, drawing the attention back to her. "What purpose would it serve me to enter politics? Surely, Jerewin, you understand that this lie you have concocted does not hold up? No nation would follow orders of mine—just because you do not feel confident in your own abilities does not mean I will accept being thrown to the _wolves_ —"she glanced towards Link—"like you are now. Please, Jerewin, don't make an even bigger fool of yourself."

"Enough of this farce!" A nobleman in front row of the gallery shouted. "This is not the time or place for a trial! Arrest them both and thrown them into the dungeons until the truth can be ascertained!"

A moment passed, but the guards did not move. Dehl continued smiling. "Ah? Do I detect a certain conflict of loyalties?" She nodded to the closest officer. "Spoken to the good captain, have you?"

The officer had, judging by the tightness of his lips, but he did not enjoy it. He cast a helpless glance to the others, but received no help from them, just as conflicted.

"Would it help," she continued, "if I were to give you the order to take Lord Camdessus and, say, remove his head? Right here, right now?"

"That's enough!" Kaura's harsh voice echoed from the gallery. "You call yourselves royal guards? Your loyalty is to the Crown—whether the princess is dead or not, this woman stands accused of murdering her! Do your damn jobs and arrest her, now!"

Maybe it was her tone—condescension, discipline, annoyance, and rage all in one glorious package—or the furious expression she was displaying at the railing. Maybe it was even just a spontaneous decision on his part. They'd likely never know, but Sheik was grateful all the same for the guardsman with the halberd as he stepped forward, pointing the blade of his impressive weapon directly at Dehl. "Seize her immediately!" he ordered.

To his immense relief, Sheik saw the rest of the guardsmen spring into action, moving towards her with their weapons drawn.

Dehl looked miffed, but none-too-worried. Rolling her eyes, like this was all so far beneath her it barely warranted her attention, she turned to the man at her shoulder... Sheik blinked. Where was Avi? Only the other man was still with her. Where had he gone? Dehl said something in a low voice, and the man nodded, opening his mouth to bellow something that was lost in the noise of the room. Reaching underneath her collar, Dehl pulled out a small metal object and put it to her mouth. A whistle. A loud, high-pitched tone echoed off the walls, so loud it Sheik was certain it could be heard outside.

Then she ducked, along with the men and women wearing the Camdessus colours, disappearing from view. Sheik's mind clicked into place, and he was crashing into Camdessus before he knew what he was doing, dragging him to the floor, shouting, "Down! Get down now!"

And then the room exploded.

* * *

As he came to, Sheik heard nothing but ringing in his ears. His eyes stung from the bright light that flooded the throne room, where the explosion, or at least the vibrations of it, had torn a hole in the ceiling, letting the midday sun flood onto the marble...or what would have been marble, had it not been for the bodies scattered all over it.

The blast had had originated from the many side chambers that lined the western side of the throne room, opposite of the main entrance. The walls were blown out completely, debris and bricks turned into missiles by the velocity.

Dust hung in the air, and the smell of blood was so potent it felt like it coated his tongue. He felt his mouth salivating at the smell, that foreign feeling of thirst already beginning to sink its claws into him. As the ringing in his ears began to die down, the screams of the wounded and dying replaced it, coupled with the dull thumps of gunshots and the clash of metal on metal.

Turning his head and looking away from the glaring sunlight, he focused on the soft body he was lying on top of. Camdessus seemed fine. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was bleeding from a small cut above his brow, likely caused by some of the debris, but otherwise he was unharmed from what Sheik could tell.

Another gunshot, and someone screamed. Sheik turned his head again, trying to get his bearings. All around him there was movement. Men and women fighting, fleeing, dying. A man wearing a palace guard's uniform fell down a few feet away, bleeding from a hole in his chest, eyes already glazing over with death.

A face appeared in his vision. Link's. Streaked with dirt and blood (not his own, luckily). He crouched down and touched Sheik's shoulder, silently asking what his voice or hands could not.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Sheik said, coughing when the dryness of his throat made him choke. "You?"

An upturned thumb, and a smile. Then he was gone, fending off a...a guardsman? The man had come at Link with his sabre, but it proved futile in the way the raw power of Link's strength and his bastard sword simply knocked the flimsy piece of steel aside, followed by opening the man's throat on the backstroke. A wave of that metallic scent flooded Sheik's nose, and he suddenly felt a newfound respect for Ascal for being able to fight in the presence of such an alluring distraction.

He turned his attention back to Camdessus. "Are you all right?" he asked gruffly.

Camdessus opened his eyes, looking frightened, but he nodded. "I'm fine—what happened?"

"Dehl had a backup plan, it would seem," Sheik said with a grimace, rising to his feet and pulling Camdessus with him. All around him there was fighting. Dehl's men, wearing Camdessus' colours, the palace guards, some of whom seemed to have sided with Dehl after all, fighting each other, and the surviving personal guards of some of the attendees. The floor was littered with bodies, many torn apart by the force of the explosion.

He spotted Link again just as the Hylian grabbed the back of a traitorous guardsman's neck and pulled him down, smashing his knee into the man's nose. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and Sheik shoved Camdessus towards him. "Stay with Link!" he barked. "He'll look after you!"

"But I—"

"Go!"

Link noticed the lord stumbling towards him and looked to Sheik.

"Make sure he doesn't get hurt! Pull back behind the throne!" he shouted at his lover. "I'll be back!"

_Have to find Dehl,_ he thought, pushing his way through the mass of fighting bodies, drawing his short, curved sword along with a dagger, dodging and weaving his way among them. _Have to end this_.

Once she was dead, the traitors would surely surrender.

A guardsman appeared to his right, rushing at him with a bloody knife. Sheik led the blow aside with his sword, drawing the man close, and shoved the dagger through his eye, into his brain. In and out, faster than he could blink. The guardsman seemed confused for a moment, and then fell dead, blood spilling from the bloody hole where his eye had been.

_No mercy for traitors,_ he thought.

Then Kafei stumbled into the path in front of him, pistol drawn and aimed at an unseen opponent in the throng of enemies. His hair had come loose from its braid, dark purple tresses flying around his head as he tried to maintain situational awareness, head turning every which way to watch for opponents. His pistol went off—it struck someone to Sheik's left.

"Cousin!" Sheik greeted, nearly stumbling over the body of a dead noblewoman, her face smashed into pulp by debris.

"Ah, there you are!" Kafei replied. "Was worried you'd got caught in the blast! Where's Wolf?"

"With Camdessus," Sheik said. "Keeping him safe. The others?"

"Around here somewhere." Kafei could do little but shrug. "Kind of lost oversight on things."

"What the hell happened?"

"She obviously had help setting this up!" Kafei ducked as a brick went flying over his head, a badly aimed projectile. "Certainly explains why the guards are fighting each other!"

Above them, in the gallery, muzzle flashes went off every now and then, which meant that Kaura and the others were still in the fight. The dust made it difficult to see details, however, and Sheik could only see the briefest of movements among the columns up there.

"Oh, there's Tira!"

Kafei pointed towards back of the throne room, where Tira was fighting two of Dehl's men on her own, keeping them away with flurries of her slender rapier and hand axe, a strange weapon combination if Sheik had ever seen one. It certainly made it difficult for the enemy to get close to her, however.

"I should probably help her," Kafei announced. "You find Dehl and Ascal, and end this," he added to Sheik, leaping over a pile of bodies and jogging to his partner. Sheik watched him long enough to see Kafei tackle one of the men from behind, announcing his presence with a laugh that had Sheik smirking a bit.

His cousin always seemed so at home during a fight or a hunt. It was just everything around it he couldn't handle without becoming awkward.

His side stung as something cut through his coat and shirt beneath, grazing his skin. Grunting, he twisted away, facing the red-haired woman in Camdessus colours that had tried to gut him. He gave her a grin under his collar and rushed forward, not giving her a moment to recover from her failed attack. He smashed his shoulder into hers, spinning her to the side. Turning the opposite way, he swung his sword in a rushed arc—the sort Impa would lay into him for—that cut a diagonal line across her back. She screamed in pain and rage and came at him once more, brandishing her sabre more like a club than a proper weapon.

She was bigger than Sheik, and would have been stronger had it not been for his...Gift. As it were, he met her blows head-on, letting her tire herself out with the repeated strikes until a window too big to ignore opened up, and he stepped forward, letting her momentum force her to impale herself on his dagger, up to the hilt. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. Sheik stepped back and swung his sword once more, cutting her throat. Her hands futilely tried to stem the flow of red liquid that gushed from the open wound, and Sheik had to tell himself not to give in to the desire to drink from it.

_Not a monster,_ he thought. _I am not a monster_.

A bullet whizzed by, smashing into the column beside Sheik's head, forcing him to duck. He had no idea if it had been meant for him, but he had no intention of presenting a stationary target. Crouching, he rushed forward, into the throngs of fighters. At this point, he had no idea whose side anyone was on, or who he was supposed to fight. The only ones he knew for certain he should be fighting were the ones wearing Camdessus' colours, but they were fairly outnumbered by the traitorous and loyal guardsmen, coupled with the other guards wearing the colours of their lords and ladies.

A flash of black to his left, and Sheik's arm automatically shot out, grabbing Eren by the collar of his tunic and dragging him close. "Where's Nikal?" he asked after a cursory glance. The boy wasn't bleeding anywhere, though his dagger had clear seen some use already.

"Trying to find her, boss," the boy replied, eyes wide with shock and excitement—a dangerous mix.

"Do so, and then get the hell out of here!" he ordered, pushing Eren away from the worst of the fighting.

His primary target was Dehl, but he wasn't about to let his little birds die in this chaos. Just as he turned, attempting to spot Nikal somewhere, he looked up at the wrong moment. The sun caught him full-on in the eyes, and he wrenched them shut, growling as he stumbled out of the halo of light he hadn't noticed he'd stepped into. Opening his eyes was agony, his vision swimming with tears as a shape came into view ahead...a woman in black...

Dehl didn't say anything as she strode forward, her sword dripping with blood. She gave a hoarse cry and launched herself at him, leading with a thrust that would have struck him directly in the heart if he hadn't parried in time. He turned the blade aside and tried to stab her with the dagger, but she was faster, fingers locking around his wrist, stopping the movement like it was nothing.

"So," she hissed, her face inches away from his own. "The old man turned you, eh? Figured he didn't have enough sires running around as it is?"

Sheik growled and pushed against her, feeling his body straining against hers. He hadn't had much of a chance to test his new, supposedly enhanced power yet, but already he could tell that Ascal hadn't lied about _that_.

They continued pushing against each other, refusing to budge in the face of a rival.

_Wait, rival?_

Before he could dwell on what he'd just thought of Dehl as, she grinned and let go, stepping aside as Sheik stumbled forward, carried by his momentum. The toe of his boot caught on a body lying in his path, and he nearly went down. Catching himself, he turned just in time to hastily parry another strike from the female vampire, her eyes sparkling with glee and hate in equal measure.

"Never drank the blood of another walker before," she announced. "Looking forward to taste yours!"

Before they could begin another pushing match, Sheik grunted and let go of his dagger, reaching for his belt instead. Dehl tried to disengage, but Sheik lunged forward, putting his leg behind hers to trip her, drawing a pistol in a smooth move he had practiced many times before. There was no time to aim—he only had the bare minimum of time to pull the trigger, pointing the barrel in her general direction. The shot went off with a loud bang, and Dehl tried jumping away.

Sheik smelled her blood immediately, and she gave a pained groan, turning her clumsy jump into a graceful roll that brought her back to her feet. It had only been a grazing shot, a small line of dark red, nearly black, drops ran down her side where her jacket had torn. She looked surprised at first, but then a predatory grin spread across her lips as she brought a stained finger to her lips, tasting her own blood.

"First blood goes to you," she said, amused. "Well done."

"I shot Ascal in the head with that move," Sheik said, dropping the spent gun on the floor and drawing another dagger. He didn't have the time to reload, and the first dagger had disappeared among the bodies at their feet.

"Pity you didn't finish him off properly," she said, drawing a _kukri_ with her left hand. This one was ornate, richly decorated with delicate carvings in the wood of the handle, and gilded at the base of the blade. A weapon meant for showing off, rather than be used. "Don't worry, though," she assured him. "I will finish what you started, after I'm done with you."

She rushed forward, almost faster than Sheik could see, and was suddenly in his face, her sword and _kukri_ flashing in erratic patterns as she attacked, pushing him backwards. Her strikes became blurs, and Sheik had a hard time keeping up enough to dodge or deflect them, much less actually strike back. Sheik may have the gifts of a vampire now, but he was still unused to his new capabilities. Dehl wasn't—she'd had years to grow accustomed to them...and it showed. Every swing, every thrust, every slash came with speed, precision, and strength that nearly knocked Sheik off his feet every time. For every strike he avoided, there was one that slipped through, giving him little nicks and cuts—almost like she was toying with him.

Realising he was about to be backed into a wall, Sheik crouched low and tried to sweep her legs from beneath her, but Dehl simply jumped out of his reach, but that gave him enough room to manoeuvre, turning the sweep into a roll that got him away from the wall. It forced him to roll through a puddle of blood and gore close to a fat merchant who'd been crushed by a crumbling column, but that was a small price compared to losing his head!

He thought he'd gotten away, but just as he rose up the sole of Dehl's boot connected with his chest with bone-crushing strength, throwing him backwards into a group of fighters, which dispersed as he barrelled through them. His back hit one of the intact columns, the back of his head smacking into it painfully. Time seemed to slow down as Dehl continued coming at him, sword and _kukri_ poised to slash in a cross that'd cut his head right off his shoulders. There was no time to parry, no time to dodge. He could only watch, and wait—

A body was hurled from somewhere behind Sheik, directly in Dehl's path. She dodged, skidding along the bloody floor, scowling in the direction the body had come from.

"That was embarrassing for you," Ascal said, suddenly standing beside him, his gaze locked on Dehl. "Remind me to read you one of the speeches later, little brother. The one about never underestimating your opponent would be a fitting one, don't you agree? And _you_ , young lady—"

"Oh, shut up and fight, old man!"

And then they were gone, disappeared from sight, their movements faster than Sheik could hope to track in all the chaos. He had no time to look for them, as a shadow moved in the corner of his eye, and he barely managed to duck and roll away as the heavy axe-head of a halberd crashed into the column, right where his head had been. Another of Dehl's men, the burly one who'd been at her side with Avi. He had an impassive, almost bored expression on his face as he reared back and swung the gigantic weapon once more, forcing Sheik to step back. He felt the rush of air washing over his face, like a warm wind tainted with the smell of blood.

Reversing the grip on his sword, Sheik ran forward as the man reared back for the third time, stepping within his reach, lashing out with his blade, aiming to cut his jugular and be done with it...but then his enemy dropped his weapon, stepping aside with surprising grace, hands reaching out to grip tightly around Sheik's wrist and the back of his coat, using his weight to twist and hurl Sheik into the column.

He struck the stone with bone-breaking force that would have killed anyone else. The entire side of his torso exploded with burning pain, every rib likely cracked or fractured in some manner. Breathing was impossible, the breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps that caused only pure agony. His vision blurred with tears of pain, and his fingers scrabbled for his weapons, which he'd dropped at the impact. All he found was the man's boot, and all he could do was look up as the giant of a man raised his boot, rearing back to bring it down on Sheik's face.

_This is going to hurt,_ his traitorous mind told him.

"Oh no you don't!" Elenwe shouted from behind him, her scimitar already swinging downwards, aimed at the man's stationary knee. For a moment, it looked like it was going to cleave right through, the strike so swift and precise it was hard to believe she was using only one arm. As it were, however, the scimitar was stopped by bone and gristle, but the effect was immediate anyway. The man howled, crumpling under his own weight, knee snapping unpleasantly and bending in an entirely wrong way. Elenwe grumbled as she pulled her scimitar loose and ended the man's life with another downward swing, easily severing his head from his body.

"Up you get!" she shouted, momentarily dropping her sword to grab Sheik's shoulder, pulling him up despite the pain that wracked every single movement he made right now. "You good?" she asked, nearly shouting directly into his ear.

"I'm fine," Sheik gasped. "I..." he paused. Elenwe's golden eyes were widened to the point it looked like they were about to fall out, like an owl's, red veins prominent against the white of her sclera. Her breathing was rapid, like she'd just run a marathon, and her skin had a reddish colour to it. "E, what's—"

"Oh, I drank the exceeder," she said, almost bouncing with pent-up energy. "This stuff's amazing, Sheik, you gotta try it sometime!" She hefted the scimitar on her shoulder, gave him a wink and stormed. "Gotta go, bad guys to fight, see you later!"

His pain momentarily forgotten, Sheik stared after her, blinking as she gave a loud whoop and hurled herself into the centre of a brutal melee, her demeanour eerily similar to that of her husband as she scattered the fighters with a terrifying, one-handed flurry of her curved sword.

_No wonder those two go so well together_ , Sheik thought, touching his side gingerly. The pain was already lessening, whether from his healing or if his mind was just choosing to ignore it, he didn't know. Breathing became a little easier, and he retrieved his weapons before stalking the battlefield again.

_There!_

Ascal and Dehl were caught up in a fierce duel at the edge of the throne room, near the pile of ruined stones and bricks where the explosion had gone off. As he watched, Sheik realised Ascal had definitely been holding back when they had first fought, either because he liked toying with them, or because he had no need to unleash what he had...but now... Each of the vampires was moving faster than his eyes could keep up with, swords and _kukris_ lashing out at breakneck speeds, clashing or cleaving air as the target moved out of the way. What strikes _did_ connect rang out with the shrieks of metal on metal, the speed belying the sheer strength each of the opponents possessed.

His pistols were useless—Dehl wouldn't stay still long enough for him to aim properly, and chances were just as big that he'd hit Ascal instead. While putting bullets in Ascal was not necessarily a bad thing in and of itself (damn near a hobby, if he were honest), right now Sheik needed the elder vampire at his full strength.

_I can't keep up with that, even now, after what I've become,_ he thought, gritting his teeth. Ascal had warned him that he'd grow rapidly in strength in the next few weeks, but right now he wasn't much tougher than he'd been as a mortal. A bit stronger, perhaps, but not enough to hold his own in a fight against Dehl...unless...

Crouching down, he withdrew the small glass bottle from the inner pocket of his coat. They had no idea what would happen if a vampire drank this, Erd had said.

_No better time to find out, then,_ he thought, popping the cork and downing the contents in one gulp. The taste was foul, almost making him retch, hunched over as he was. The effect was almost immediate, his side flaring up once more...but soon replaced by a comfortable numbness. His mind grew a little clearer, the fog from his head's earlier meeting with the column lifting just a bit. His hands felt steadier, and it became easier to ignore the miasma of blood and death that hung over the room, emanating from the rapidly growing piles of bodies.

He felt faster. He felt stronger. He grinned, thanking Erd for gifting him a bottle anyway, and ran forward, sword and dagger raised. Dehl noticed his movement and dodged out of the way...which only brought her into Ascal's range. She gasped as his _kukri_ cut a deep line into her thigh, before leaping away once more.

"Two against one?" she said, breathing a little harshly. Ascal clearly gave her one hell of a fight. "Now that's hardly fair! I thought you both to be gentlemen!"

"Gentlemen?!" Sheik said with a snort, wondering if his eyes were wide like Elenwe's, giving him the look of a madman.

_Though, on the other hand, one would_ have _to be a madman to get involved in this..._

"My dear, we are many things, but gentlemen we are not," Ascal said, chuckling. "You cannot beat us both, Dehl. Give up now, and I promise I will make it quick. You shan't feel a thing."

"That's what they told me, you know," Dehl said, grinning crookedly. "Before puncturing my lungs. Forgive me if I don't believe you now."

Ascal frowned, shaking his head sadly. "Very well, then," he said...and the fight began anew.

It was a confusing, chaotic mess. Where previously the two vampires had been dignified, almost elegant in their duelling, the addition of Sheik, coupled with Dehl's desperation, the fight turned into a downright brawl. Swords, daggers, and _kukris_ flew every which way, eyes and snarling teeth whipping in and out of sight. A knee struck his gut; Sheik answered an elbow to the nose, unsure of whom he was hitting.

A flash, and a _kukri_ glanced across his face, cutting his cheek open. Sheik thrust his blade forward, feeling it sink into something fleshy before it was ripped out of his hands. Drawing a second dagger, he hurled it in the same direction, but only heard it clattering uselessly against stone. Ascal's face, tight with tension, appeared, opening his mouth in a snarl as he struck forward with his fencing blade. Dehl's laugh as she caught the thin blade and snapped it like a twig. Ascal answered by catching her broadsword barehanded, smirking as he bent the steel into a right angle, rendering it useless.

Sheik stepped forward and struck out with an open palm, feeling the muscles in his arms and chest flex and tighten with the movement. He hit Dehl's side, and felt the air escape her from the impact, pushing her backwards against the wall.

They advanced on her, hoping to give her no time to recover, but once again she was faster than anticipated. Shrieking, she ducked and weaved her way past them, rounding a column and throwing a large piece of broken brick at them. It exploded against the wall, right next to Sheik's face.

He gasped when the thousands of tiny particles hit his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He scrubbed at them furiously with the sleeves of his jacket, feeling them tearing up again, only barely able to get the debris out in time to see Dehl trap Ascal against a wall, kick his knee out and drive her _kukri_ into his left shoulder from above, drawing a pained scream from the elder vampire. His grip on his own _kukri_ went slack, the weapon clattering onto the floor. She'd likely severed every tendon in there, rendering that arm useless. He tried to grab the weapon with his other hand, but she kicked him viciously in the head, sending it smacking into the floor.

_Damn fucking leech!_ Sheik roared as he rushed at her, barely realising she'd already gotten out of the way. His heart was pounding, and all he wanted to do right now was to get his hands around her neck and _rip it apart_ —

"Mistress!"

Avi had suddenly appeared beside her, gripping her arm.

"We must go, mistress!"

"Let go, Avi, I have to finish—"

"Mistress, we are losing!" Avi interrupted her. "If you do not leave now, we'll all die!"

The man was right, Sheik realised. The number of combatants had dropped rapidly, and he saw more loyal guardsmen and personal guards advancing on the remainder of traitors and Dehl's men, looking none-too-pleased with them. There would be no trials here...

Dehl looked torn between rushing back into the fight to finish Ascal off, but Sheik crouching in front of him provided an obstacle she wouldn't have the time to deal with before getting caught by the rest. She cursed loudly. "Damn it! Fine! Do it, Avi!"

Avi looked relieved and pulled something out of his pocket. There was no mistaking the long, slender, cylinder-shaped object with an exceedingly short fuse sticking out of it. Dynamite. He had a tinderbox in his other hand, already lit. Dehl was already on her way out, her back disappearing rapidly towards the doors. Sheik tried to move, either to stop her or Avi, but even with the exceeder he would not be quick enough. The moment that fuse was lit, it was over!

Then a pair of small bodies appeared from the throng, already in range.

Avi had no idea what hit him. One moment he was trying to light the fuse, the next he was on the floor, shrieking in agony as Eren and Nikal went to work with their knives, cutting him to ribbons bit by bit, inch by inch.

Then he was being dragged away from the sight of his little spies, towards the door. "Come on!" Ascal shouted. "Before she gets away!"

His left arm hung limp at his side, his _kukri_ gripped tight in his right hand, so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

"The others—"Sheik tried, but Ascal shoved him along.

"No time!" he hissed.

Outside the throne room, there was even more chaos. The explosion had ripped through the entire corridor, cracks spreading in the stonework. In one end, towards the gardens, a blockade of guardsmen had formed, slowly advancing, all wearing heavy plate armour and armed with shields and broadswords. Emergency equipment from an older time.

"That way!" Ascal said, heading in the opposite directions, towards the eastern end of the palace itself, where there was nothing but the stairs to...to...

"The wall," Sheik gasped, keeping up with Ascal. "She's going to the wall!"

A trail of blood from her many wounds made no secret of where Dehl had gone, and they followed it up the winding staircase, eventually bursting into the harsh glare of the afternoon sun (how long had they been fighting?), both panting heavily as they moved onto the ramparts. On one side, below, they could see the rooftops of the palace and the city at large. On the other, a sheer drop to the snow-covered moat, and beyond that, the thick woods the hunters had used for cover on their way inside.

Wincing at the bright light, Sheik could do little but narrow his eyes, barely able to see the retreating form ahead of them on the rampart. "Get her!" Ascal shouted, already thundering after her.

About halfway across this section of the wall, Sheik heard the door of the guardhouse at the end burst open, and the clatter of plate armour. They burst onto the rampart in front of Dehl, trapping her between them and her pursuers.

"Freeze!" a woman—an officer, most likely—shouted. "You are under arrest for treason and conspiracy to murder Princess Zelda of Hyrule! Surrender now, and you will not be harmed until you have had a fair trial!"

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Ascal asked Sheik as they slowed to a jog before pausing a few feet away from Dehl. He sheathed his _kukri_ and held his injured shoulder gingerly. He squinted in the sunlight, just like Sheik, probably not seeing much more than his youngest kin in these conditions. An unpleasant tightness and slight burning feeling had already started to spread across the bits of Sheik's face that were exposed to the light. "Come on, Dehl," he said in the exasperated tone of an exhausted parent, desperately tired of disciplining his progeny. " _Liebchen_ , there is no winning this, and you know it."

For one glorious moment, Sheik believed this was it. Dehl had a defeated slump to her figure as she leaned on the battlements, clutching her bleeding side and thigh as she regarded both the guards and her fellow vampires, breathing heavily. Then she chuckled and shifted her weight backwards. More out of instinct upon realising what she was doing than conscious action, Sheik drew his last pistol and fired. Badly aimed, he expected it to strike the battlements, but instead it got her right in the left knee, just as her legs disappeared over the side of the wall.

Down she fell, tumbling in the air before hitting the snow-covered bank of the moat below. Sheik had expected to hear the crunch of bones or a scream of pain, but all he heard was a dull thud and a gasp...and then her dark shape climbed out of the drift, limping heavily and out across the ice...towards the woods.

"Well?!" Ascal shouted at the guards. "What are you waiting for?! Shoot her, damn it!"

The shots echoed across the landscape, but they must have missed, because the dark, blurry shape on the white snow continued moving stubbornly ahead. Sheik immediately began to reload his pistol, but his hands were shaking too much. He dropped the pistol and cursed, bending down to pick it up, but Ascal stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave it," he said. "You won't be able to hit her anyway."

"Leave it?" Sheik asked. "Where are we...oh, no..."

"Oh, yes!" Ascal said, laughing before jumping off the battlements as well, laughing all the way down. Sheik felt more than a little satisfaction when his laugh was cut off by a loud groan.

_Well, in for a penny..._ Sheik thought, barely glancing over the battlements before jumping as well. _Time to see what being a vampire is good for!_

It was glorious and terrifying, the feeling of soaring through the air at such speed, his stomach plunging at seeing the white ocean below approaching far too slow and much too fast at the same time, inevitably heralding his doom as he came closer and closer and...

**THUD**

His lower back and fractured ribs burned like never before, and he couldn't hold in his pained scream, which was quickly swallowed up by the pile of snow that came crashing down on top of him, plunging him into darkness and suffocation. It was only instinct that made him desperately dig his way out, fingers raking away fistfuls of the stuff until the blessed sunlight (painful as it might be) and fresh air that only made his ribs hurt even more as he took a deep breath.

To his left, Ascal was coughing, dragging himself out of a similar drift. "Oh gods," he muttered. "My poor back..."

"This," Sheik growled, cutting himself off with a harsh cough that left him gasping and a spatter of red drops in the pure white snow beneath him, "was a terrible fucking idea!"

"Blame your sister," Ascal groaned, rising up. "Come on, before she loses us in the trees."

"She is _not_ my sister," Sheik grunted, stumbling after him, dismayed to find that he only had a single dagger to his name at the moment.

"She is in our coven's hierarchy," Ascal said, tapping the satchel that had yet to come into play, as if worried he'd lost it. "Now let's go!"

Injured and slow as they were, Dehl was even slower. The bullet Sheik had put in her knee made it difficult to move, and she had barely entered the tree line by the time they caught up with her.

They were a pitiful sight, the three of them. Bleeding from dozens of injuries, moving slower than molasses, limping and holding their aching backs and sides, Ascal's arm dangling uselessly whenever he moved. Dehl was clutching her shot knee, willing it to take her weight despite clearly not being able to do so, resulting in an exaggerated limp that would have been hilarious in any other situation.

She scowled at the pair of them, putting her back against a large rock, keeping them in her sight. "You're pathetic," she growled. "You could have had it all, old man, but you turned it all down...for what? Two lifetimes as a slave and another as nursemaid to a snivelling boy? What did you ever _see_ in Jerewin fucking Camdessus? Now you're too old to be of use, so you turn _him_ into one of us?!" she jerked her head towards Sheik.

"Only out of necessity," Ascal said. "Not my number one choice for another family member, believe me, but there we are..." He shook his head. "And as for turning it all down...I did what was necessary. Always have. Always will."

"You're _pathetic_!" she shrieked again, turning her attention to Sheik. "You! Hunter! Do you even _know_ what your sire has done in the past? The atrocities he has committed? Why would you ever ally yourself with the likes of _him_?!"

"Because he'll help me kill you," Sheik said. "And then I'll kill _him_."

"Still on that, are we?" Ascal said.

"Always."

"Sorry," Dehl said, grinning. "I'm not really the surrendering type, and I have more important things to attend to than listen to the pair of you. I have a kingdom to burn, so..." She raised her _kukri_ and attacked. One last, stupid, desperate move. Ascal stepped forward, but Sheik was faster.

He deflected her weakened blow with his dagger, smashing his boot into her wounded knee in the same movement. She screamed as her entire body buckled, but the sound was cut off as Sheik drew his dagger across her throat, cutting through her windpipe and vocal chords. She fell to her knees, clutching at the gaping wound, eyes wide with shock. Sheik raised his dagger again to plunge it into her neck...but...no...he felt a desire to...to...

His fingers released the grip on the dagger, and found their way to her jaw instead, where they grabbed hold on either side of her head...and pulled. His muscles burned with effort, his breath caught somewhere in his chest as his mouth opened in a wordless scream, Dehl's hands pawing uselessly at his. The air in his chest was finally released in a roar as he felt the skin, muscles, sinew, and bone give way...and Dehl's head came off, ripped entirely from her shoulders.

He stumbled back, unprepared for the sudden lack of resistance, and fell against the trunk of a large pine tree, still clutching Dehl's head. Her body lay in the snow some distance away, arms and legs twitching, nearly black blood spilling violently from the stump of her neck. Unlocking his fingers, Sheik let the head fall at his feet, and then he allowed himself to do the same, leaning against the tree, panting.

He had no idea how long it took for him to regain his breath and composure, but when he did he found Ascal staring at him with something akin to amusement.

"That was...impressive," he said, glancing at Dehl's body. "Looks like you didn't need me after all."

"Bugger...off..." Sheik said, squinting at him.

"Here," Ascal said, stepping forward and reaching into Sheik's pocket. He placed the smoky spectacles over Sheik's eyes, which helped immensely with the sunlight and glare of the snow. "Better?"

"Yes," Sheik muttered begrudgingly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," the elder vampire said, reaching down to pick up Dehl's head by her long hair. Her face was frozen in a shocked expression, eyes staring unseeingly into the distance. "Ah, my sweet daughter...I never wanted it to come to this, but...perhaps it was inevitable."

He carried her head to the body. He carefully rolled the body over and placed the head on its chest, arranging her arms so it looked like she was clutching her lost head in an intimate embrace. Grotesque, it was, but Sheik was too tired to bother asking what the hell Ascal was up to. The elder vampire wordlessly reached into his satchel, withdrawing a glass bottle that had been wrapped up in many layers of cloth, protecting it from impacts. The fluid inside was thick and yellowish. Oil.

He popped the cork with his teeth and poured the oil onto Dehl's body, pushing some of the snow surrounding her away. He then pulled out a tinderbox, leaning down and whispering something Sheik couldn't quite catch, before lighting it one-handed and throwing it at the body. It went up in flames immediately, burning much brighter and fiercer than Sheik had expected.

"Special concoction of mine," Ascal said over the roar of the towering flames. "Burns hotter than usual—shouldn't take long to reduce her to ashes."

"So...that's how you kill vampires, is it?" Sheik asked, stumbling away from the tree and closer to the fire, wanting to see her _burn_ , to confirm that she wasn't going to return. "Tear their heads off?"

"That only puts us out of commission for a while," Ascal replied, reaching out with his working arm to steady Sheik, who realised that it wasn't the world that was swaying—it was him. "You want to get rid of us permanently, you have to burn us. Nothing survives turning to ash, not even walkers."

"Huh...I'll keep that in mind for later," Sheik said.

"You do that," Ascal said calmly, watching as the flames swallowed Dehl up, skin already blackening. Ascal sighed. "I found her on the road, about forty years ago," he said. "She was the daughter of a merchant and her family's caravan had been ambushed by bandits. They'd killed them all quickly...except her. Her, they had stabbed in the lungs and left to die slowly, excruciatingly from drowning in her own blood."

Sheik looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You turned her then."

"I did," he confirmed. "She begged me to kill her, but I thought...here was another poor, wretched, pathetic being whose only mistake in life was to be born rich. I decided to take her with me." He chuckled. "She always struck me as a little bloodthirsty, even for the likes of us. A natural, I thought. Only later did I learn that she had arranged the bandit attack herself, for the inheritance. Impatient little imp, decided she wanted her father's business a lot sooner than he intended. Except she made a mistake in choosing her men, who wound up betraying _her_ in return. In hindsight, I should have expected she would betray me at some point...but I was too caught up in my own hunt to listen to reason."

Sheik looked back at the burning body. A despicable being, through and through.

Ascal sighed and patted Sheik's shoulder. "You did well, little brother. I'm proud of you."

"What, I'm not getting a speech?" Sheik asked with a grin, his eyes almost glued to sight in front of him. Like he was afraid she'd come back if he didn't watch every second of her being reduced to ashes. Ascal's hand slipped lower, rubbing along his spine in a comforting manner, something Sheik admitted that he didn't fully...hate?

Then there was a sharp pain just above his lower back, something cutting into him. He gasped as his body went numb, and he collapsed under his own weight. Ascal stepped behind him, supporting him with his knees as he slipped the dagger— _Sheik's_ dagger!—into his belt. Sheik tried to struggle, but his body wouldn't obey, his arms and legs as useless as Ascal's left one.

"Don't worry, little brother," Ascal said as he gently dragged Sheik backwards, pulling him up to rest against the pine tree from before in a sitting position. Sheik could only crane his neck to look at him with rage, words lost in his sputtering rage. "I have made a little cut into the space between two of your vertebrae," he explained. "Effectively, I've paralysed you."

"You fucking—"Sheik began, but Ascal's hand over his mouth silenced him.

"I don't have a lot of time, so I'll let you stew in your own rage in silence for a bit, and then you can be as loud about it as you'd like later, all right?" Ascal smiled. "It's not permanent...well, not for us, at any rate. A proper night's sleep and a good meal, and you'll be right as rain." He sighed then. "Now, where to start...? Well, there's no way around it, I suppose. Little brother, I will not allow you to kill me, nor will I stand trial to face judgement for my actions. Not because I don't feel I deserve it—on the contrary, I am probably the guiltiest bastard in Hyrule, now that Dehl is gone.

"No, I am reneging on our agreement because, upon seeing Jerewin again, I realised that he still needs me. Not as a father, not as someone to give his blood to, but as his protector. His real protector. I have no delusions that Zelda will allow him to live after all this—high treason, like he has committed, _must_ be punished with death, or her reign will be seen as powerless and weak. You have no intention of letting that happen, just as I have no intention of letting Jerewin die. I still have a debt to pay.

"I will take him away from Hyrule, as far away as I can. To a place where he can live in peace, and I can ensure his safety for as long as I am able. He will not like this; he will scream and argue, and hate me for all he's worth...but I'll gladly accept that, as long as he's safe."

Ascal removed his hand, bracing himself for the barrage of vitriol, but Sheik held his tongue. He should have seen this coming, shouldn't have trusted a damn word the man had said. He was angry, yes, but mostly at himself. "Pity you never felt that way about _my_ family, huh?" he said nastily. "My mother and aunt...you never felt like protecting _them_."

Ascal smiled sadly, his eyes betraying his hurt for the first time. "I did, but I was too much of a coward to act on it. I wonder, now that I remember, what would have happened _if_ I had followed through on my promise. Would you even have existed today, if I had? So many possibilities...none to be discovered, though, because of me." He rose from his crouch, glancing towards the fire. "You'll still have the last laugh in the end, little brother. You've done your damage to me already."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sheik asked, blinking up at him through the smoky lenses.

"I can't...force myself to forget things anymore, can't lock any of my memories away," Ascal replied, tapping the middle of his forehead, leaving a bloody smear in the spot Sheik had shot him during their first encounter. "Bringing back what I remembered of Emory...well, it has opened a floodgate I have no chance of closing again. Even now I can feel it all beginning to clump into a horrible mess, the sort of mental chaos that would drive me insane. _Will_ drive me insane. Because you see, little brother, the thing that is most likely to destroy a walker if they are not murdered by overzealous hunters? Our own minds, the weight of our memories, of our lives. It becomes too much for us. I worked hard to develop a way to stop the process, or at least delay it, and you ruined it all with a single gunshot. I have to admit, I am very much impressed. Be glad, because with time I will turn into a blabbering mess, unable to care for myself. A fitting end and revenge, don't you think? Won't that make you happy?"

Sheik wanted to say yes, but he found to his surprise that it wouldn't. He wanted to kill Ascal in combat, wanted to...to kill him with his own hands. He scowled. "Coward. That's what you are."

"I am," Ascal agreed with a nod. "It's what's kept me alive for so long. Truly, it is _not_ desirable way of life." He removed his leather satchel, placing it beside Sheik in the snow. "This is for you," he explained. "The papers contain as much information as I could put down on being a walker. Your needs, your changes, what you might expect in the future. There is also information on the other walkers in existence that I know of. I am making you my heir, and officially ceding my territory, that is Hyrule, over to you. No other walker will dare to trespass without your permission."

"What? What are you—"

"Technically, you are now the coven leader in Hyrule. Not a prestigious title, since the coven numbers only you, but that still makes you a vampire lord. The old ways have long since been abandoned, but the territorial division still remains." Ascal grinned. "You'll hate it more than I did, little brother, and it gives me no small amount of pleasure to push this burden over on your shoulders."

Rising, Ascal turned in the direction of Castle Town.

"You can't go!" Sheik shouted, trying to force his body to move, but failing. "I won't let you! Come back here, you bastard!"

"Peace, little brother," Ascal said gently. "Our ways part here, forever. You will never see me again; of that I can assure you." He turned and made to walk away, but paused. Glancing back at Sheik, he looked contemplative for a moment before returning to crouch next to him.

"I almost forgot," he said, grinning embarrassedly as he drew his _kukri_ and placed it on top of the satchel. It was plain and unadorned, well-worn but cared for. "She'd want it to stay in the family, I'm sure," he said quietly, stroking the handle carefully. Then he rose and walked away, taking a deep breath and mumbling something. Sheik pretended that he didn't hear it, that he hadn't understood it.

"Goodbye, Rivea..."

Smiling brightly this time, Ascal gave Sheik one final look. "And goodbye to you, Sheik. I hope I never see your face again."

And with that, he left, disappearing rapidly among the trees. Sheik's eyes grew heavier and heavier, fatigue and the aftermath of the exceeder leaving his system by bleeding crashing down on him like an avalanche.

_I'm sorry, Impa,_ he thought. _I'm sorry, Juichi, Kiro, Mana, Hafthor, Reno...everyone...I failed you..._

Soon, his eyes drifted shut, and he lost consciousness to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, and the snapping and crackling of Dehl's pyre, the smoke rising high in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Now on to the epilogue, and the end!**


	78. The Hunt

The return of Princess Zelda had the city boiling with excitement. People lined the streets, desperate to catch a glimpse of the monarch they thought they'd lost all those months ago. The sheer noise they made as she passed by, mounted on a pure white horse and dressed in her ceremonial armour (impractical, but very shiny), smiling at her adoring subjects.

Flanking her on mounts of their own were Tira and Elenwe, who also had Tao riding in the saddle in front of her. The two hunters had been sent back to Lon Lon Ranch to escort Zelda, accompanied by an entire company of the Royal Army's finest due to the recent tensions between the Watch and general populace, after the news of their collaboration with an enemy had come to light. The rogue elements had mostly been excised and imprisoned by the time Zelda arrived, but the new Closed Council preferred to see the princess escorted by those who had not been anywhere near the mess that had happened in Castle Town.

Entry to the palace was restricted on this day; only those approved by the princess herself were allowed on the grounds, and another company from the Royal Army were enforcing this rule strictly, forming a protective barrier through which none could go.

Sheik watched the procession slowly approaching the palace gates from a balcony on the third floor, near Zelda's office. Spring had come, and the sun was particularly harsh today, forcing him to use the smoke-lensed spectacles to be able to stand the glare. According to the information Ascal had left behind, the sensitivity to light would never go away, but in time he wouldn't need the spectacles except on the brightest of summer days.

He glanced down at his rifle, which was leaning against the balcony railing, loaded and ready to fire at any moment. He didn't expect trouble, but he wasn't about to let himself relax either. Not until his sister was safe within the walls of her palace, back where she belonged, surrounded by _loyal_ guards, not the hodgepodge of thugs and bandits Dehl had managed to sneak inside the ranks in their absence.

_How did she react?_ he wondered.

There had been no word back from any of them after Tira and Elenwe had left Castle Town with the army, except to inform the palace that she was returning. The hunters hadn't been instructed to leave the news of Sheik's...condition out of whatever they told her, due to how closely it was connected to what had happened in the end. Most likely, given her reaction to what happened to Link, she wouldn't care...but Sheik was still nervous. A werewolf was scary enough on its own, no doubt, but Sheik had been turned into a creature like the two responsible for her temporarily losing her kingdom, and she'd certainly be within her rights to be wary of him...

"You know, even with all this noise I can _hear_ when you're thinking too hard."

Sheik looked at Lor, who was standing by the balcony door, dressed in a purple-black suit that had been commissioned for him by Kafei. With his hair slicked back slightly, and his posture corrected by Madame René (who was very scary when she decided to teach something), he looked every bit as noble as the guests that would be welcoming the princess back in the coming days. The appearance was only marred slightly by the hunter tattoo proudly displayed on his cheek. His discomfort at the general situation was betrayed by the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

Sheik turned his attention back to the approaching procession. The soldiers had begun to fan out from the gates, forming a protective perimeter that ensconced the last third of the parade street, ensuring Zelda's protection long before she was even on the palace grounds. Just like they'd been briefed about.

"I suppose I don't even need to tell you _what_ I'm thinking about, then, if you know me so well," he said.

Lor clicked his tongue and came to stand beside him, looking down, their shoulders nearly touching. A big change from a few weeks ago. Ripping someone's head off sure had an interesting effect on people.

"Like I need to even wonder for a second about that," he said. "She'll be fine with it. You know that already, but that anxious head of yours keeps telling you to find a reason for why she wouldn't be. And by the way? All the reasons you're thinking of? They're crap, so just forget them right now." This time he did bump his shoulder into Sheik's. "Or Link's going to notice you're stressing and will come embarrass you in front of her like the papa wolf he is."

Sheik snorted. "I hope not, at least not in the capacity as a papa, given what we are."

"I think that's preferable than for him to mount you in the middle of the greeting hall, which you know he'd do in a second if you let him."

Sheik choked on his own saliva at that, glaring at Lor as he coughed. The black-haired boy simply gave him a cheeky grin in return. "You're a bastard, you know that?" he said when he was finally able to breathe fine again. "Why are you even here, anyway? You're supposed to be downstairs, officially greeting her."

"Kafei sent me to check on you, just in case," Lor said, reaching out to brush some imaginary dust off Sheik's lapel.

Sheik was wearing a suit of the same style he'd worn at the ball half a year before, though this one with slightly less subtler shades of dark blue and red, more suitable for a dignified occasion like this. To his immense depression, his measurements were exactly the same as the last suit he'd had tailored, proving he hadn't changed physically at all, unlike Link.

"Ah, the mother hen," Sheik said, nodding sagely as he batted Lor's hand away. "Like he isn't stressed as all hell himself."

"This is his way of releasing the tension, I guess," Lor said with a shrug. "Making me miserable with his errands. Besides, it's his job to be a mother hen now, since you won't take the damn position."

Sheik sighed, putting a hand on Lor's shoulder and gently shoving him away. "Go back downstairs and tell him I've got everything under control. Make sure Link doesn't pounce on Zelda and cover her in slobber—I could tell he's excited to see her from the way he practically vibrated this morning."

"And here I thought wolves were dignified creatures," Lor said, walking away with a chuckle.

"Mine isn't," Sheik called after him. "Not like your cat, at least."

"You leave Ard out of this!"

"Never!"

Sheik found himself smiling when he turned his attention back to the procession, which was now coming through the gates. Zelda was looking up at him on the balcony, her eyes squinting before a smile tugged at her lips, and she waved at him in greeting. A proper, princess-like wave that barely involved moving her hand, but a wave nonetheless, and there was no mistaking the affection he saw in her eyes. Perhaps Lor was right, then, and he had nothing to worry about.

* * *

"I _told_ you not to let him pounce on her!" Sheik said with a groan when the group entered Zelda's office, the woman of the hour carried tightly in the arms of a blissful-looking Link. Tao was practically glued to Kaura's side, though he kept giving her dirty glances, clearly not having forgiven her for basically drugging him back at the ranch.

Sheik had retreated to the office after Zelda had entered the palace, preferring to stay out of the official greeting provided her by the Closed Council, with whom she'd hold an official meeting the following day to discuss the events of the recent past, including the many policies enacted by Camdessus and Dehl. Or, just Dehl, at this point.

"Well, he didn't _pounce_ on her, technically," Lor said innocently.

"Wolf was pretty well-behaved, actually," Ayla said, her cane tapping on the stone floor as she took the liberty of flopping herself onto the sofa by the fireplace. "If anything, it was the princess that pounced on _him_."

"How could I not, when he looks so fluffy?" Zelda said with a laugh, tapping Link's arms so he could let her down. She grinned brightly and gave Sheik no time to prepare or offer a greeting, sweeping him into a tight hug that spoke volumes of how much she'd missed him. "Good to see you again, little brother," she said quietly into his ear, kissing his cheek.

"And you," he managed to reply, holding her just as tightly back. "Welcome home."

"Thank you for taking it back for me," she replied, letting go to stop back and take in his appearance from top to bottom, a contemplative look on her face. "You certainly don't _look_ different...save for the lack of scars...and your eyes."

Sheik blinked. He still hadn't gotten used to the quads of amber dots around his irises that greeted him whenever he looked into a mirror. The other said it made it harder to identify him as a vampire, but Sheik himself believed they'd only draw even more attention to him now. Not that being a Sheikah meant you'd go unnoticed in public in the first place, but...

"They're beautiful," the princess continued, touching his cheek. "Just like you."

"Oooh, careful, or Wolf's going to be jealous," Elenwe said with a cackle, which only grew louder when Sheik glared at her.

"So you don't care?" Sheik asked Zelda, still not able to believe that she'd take his condition in such easy stride. "About me being a...a..."

"Vampire?" Zelda finished. "Not really. Not anymore, at least." She glanced at Tira and Elenwe, who were hovering close, even now. Seems they still took their assignment with utmost seriousness...Tira especially. Sheik was aware of what was happening between her and the princess, but his mind would not let him think about it too closely, lest he go blind.

"When they told me what Ascal had done, I was furious and afraid," Zelda continued. "Furious at him, afraid for you," she explained quickly when his expression shifted. "That he would do such a thing, curse you with his twisted gift...I wanted nothing more than to find him and do to him what you did to Dehl...but then I suppose he did it for a good reason. Saving your life...I will not blame him for doing it."

"Even after all that happened?" Sheik asked.

Zelda grimaced. "Don't get me wrong, Sheik. After all he's done, I will certainly not hesitate to have him executed should he ever show his face in my kingdom again...but I highly doubt that will happen. He is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. We won't see him, ever again, and therefore I will not waste energy on being angry. I'd rather spend it making the most of the time I have with you." She turned to the group, meeting their eyes with her own, one by one. " _All_ of you."

"I'm sure we can spare some of our precious time for you, princess," Kaura said with an oddly pleasant cadence to her voice, her arm locked tightly around Tao's shoulders, as if afraid he'd wander off. "After all, we _did_ fight a monster to secure your return."

"I'm sorry, _we_?" Kafei asked, looking at her with a mock-offended expression. "As I recall, you lot were up on a balcony, occasionally shooting down at us."

"Saving your miserable arse more than once," Kaura maintained. "Despite the fact that it was _you_ I was aiming for."

"Good thing you're such a terrible shot, then."

" _And_ ," Zelda continued, interrupting the incoming good-natured argument, "I'd also like to get to know a pair of brave operatives who held down the fort while we were gone." She turned to Eren and Nikal, who'd been doing their best to hide behind the others, looking very uncomfortable in their fine outfits. Nikal had insisted on a suit just like Eren's instead of a dress, and Sheik had been powerless to deny her, and the two looked very professional, standing before the princess in their matching clothes and (for once) neatly cleaned and kept...although their expressions were more akin to frightened deer than brave spies. "I believe we haven't been formally introduced," Zelda said, holding out her hand. "I am Princess Zelda of Hyrule."

"Eren, Your Majesty," Eren said, shaking her hand, his voice almost disappearing on the second syllable.

"Nikal, Your Majesty," Nikal said, her voice louder than Eren's, but also more strained.

"A pleasure, truly," Zelda replied, smiling before pulling them into a hug as well. "I cannot express with words my gratitude for the job you have done while I was away," she told them. "If there is anything I can do or give you, please do not hesitate to ask. _Anything_."

The two exchanged a look before staring hard at the princess.

"Your Grace," Eren began. "We want to..."

"...keep working for the boss," Nikal finished.

Zelda blinked, surprised, before chuckling and turning to Sheik. "Well, who am I to deny such a request?" she asked. "Sheik, it seems you will not be rid of these two anytime soon."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Sheik said, smiling when he felt Link sidle up next to him, the Hylian putting himself as close to Sheik as possible without it becoming...unseemly. "Though I have an offer for you two, about your future, but we will discuss that later, yes?"

"Got it, boss!" they chorused.

"Such adorable little spies," Zelda murmured after dismissing them, at which point they introduced themselves to Tao in a noisy little spectacle, while also signing their names and greeting phrases, something Link had been teaching them.

The silent apprentice was positively excited about having more people with whom he could communicate directly, quickly disappearing from Kaura's side. The physician looked a little miffed at that, but quickly covered it up with a scowl when she noticed Sheik looking at her.

Soon after, servants brought in food and drink, and the level of noise within the office grew to an uncomfortably loud level. A dozen stories were shared at once, accounts of the Battle in the Throne Room, as the nasty fight had come to be called, and just leisurely tales of what had happened while they'd been waiting for Zelda's return.

Sheik soon grew a little too hot and uncomfortable in the tight press of bodies and loud volume, excusing himself from a conversation with Erd, whose bandages had been replaced with a leather eyepatch that Elenwe kept saying made him look like a pirate. He glanced around, found Link sandwiched between Eren and Nikal, listening to Ard and Lor as they spoke about...something involving time travel?

_Ridiculous,_ he thought, smiling nonetheless, and then let himself out of the office, relieved at the silent and cooler temperature in the hall. Exchanging nods with the soldiers on guard, he retreated to the same balcony he'd occupied earlier that day. The sun had gone down now, and a thousand lights were springing to life all over the city, and the general calm of night was slowly settling over the metropolis.

He leaned on the railing and took several long, deep breaths. It was strange how the cold didn't bother him much now, but heat did...at least the stifling sort that arose in close quarters. Then again, he'd never been comfortable in such situations to begin with...at least not after Kaerwall.

The door to the office opened and closed, and footsteps approached. Sheik recognised them from the sound alone, and he only grunted in acknowledgement as leaned on the railing next to him, observing the city with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Tired?" Sheik asked.

"Very," Kafei replied. "The princess wants to discuss the offer she made at the Studio. About a permanent hunter base of operations here."

"You're going to take her up on it?"

Kafei nodded. "If Master Terra says yes," he replied. "He says the Studio needs to be replaced as soon as possible, so we don't lose our foothold in this part of the world. He also offered me his condolences."

"Clinically, I bet," Sheik said with a snort.

"That has always been his way, according to Impa," his cousin replied with a snort of his own. "Never been good with people or feelings, apparently."

"Just like you," Sheik said, chuckling.

"Just like me," Kafei agreed. He sighed, leaning more heavily on the railing, looking as if he was about to keel over and pass out. "I haven't informed him of your survival," he confessed. Sheik wasn't surprised.

"I didn't ask you to," Sheik said.

"I wanted to, though, until I read his reply," Kafei said. "In light of what happened here, he's declaring a Grand Hunt."

Sheik's eyes widened slightly. "A Grand Hunt? On what?"

"Vampires. He says the Accord has been broken, and that it's time to put them all out of their misery, that their kind—"

"My kind," Sheik corrected.

"...your kind has finally proven themselves untrustworthy, and a blight upon the world." Kafei looked positively miserable as he turned to look at Sheik. "He's aiming to start this fall, if everyone can be reached and organised by then. Next spring, if not. There will be no deal or pleading this time; the hunt will not stop until every single vampire has been wiped from the face of the earth."

Again, Sheik was not surprised. While Ascal and Dehl's actions were not sanctioned by the twenty or so remaining vampire lords (not counting the ones who'd died or been sired since Ascal had last had a proper overview), it certainly reflected poorly on them all. It was not a big surprise that Terra would demand their extinction after the destruction of the Studio...and it wasn't too farfetched for the rest of the hunter workshops to quickly join in on the idea.

"Suddenly, I find myself _very_ relieved that you didn't mention that I'm still here," Sheik said, giving Kafei a crooked smile.

Kafei didn't smile back. Reaching up to his ear, he took out the earring Impa had given him. He held it out to Sheik. "It's still not too late, you know," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, this belongs to you."

Sheik blanched. "I told you, I don't want it. The clan would never—"

"The clan will accept whatever its leader commands," Kafei said firmly. "They have no choice but to obey once you take this, age be damned. You are the last member of your bloodline, the last—"

"I'm a vampire," Sheik interrupted him, looking back across the city, keeping his voice low so as to not give away his nature to the guards. "Whatever I was before...this is what I am now. Even if the clan, such as it is, followed me, the hunters would never accept it. As far as they are concerned, I'm just another monster, another beast to be hunted down and slain. No...my bloodline ended at the Studio. Let them think this, and accept you as the new patriarch."

Kafei looked disappointed, but put the ring back in his ear anyway. "You have no idea what position this puts me in, cousin," he grumbled. "Now I have to get the clan to accept _Elenwe_ as their matriarch."

...Sheik hadn't thought of that, and barked with laughter at that, leaving Kafei looking quite offended.

"It's not funny!" the purple-haired Sheikah exclaimed. "Do you have _any idea_ what hoops I'll have to jump through to get the clan elders to agree?"

"Not my problem," Sheik said, gasping.

"You're the worst," Kafei grumbled, before fixing Sheik with a stare. "Know this, though," he said. "You will always be welcome with us, regardless of what happens. Your secret will be safe with me and the others—you'll just be an unknown bastard, unaffiliated with a clan, to the rest. You'll still have a home with us, no matter where we end up, and you can always count on our protection and support, even against the hunters. Never forget that, cousin."

Sheik straightened up, and nodded. "I won't, cousin."

"Good."

A sort of peace came over them, then, and they gazed out across the cityscape in silent companionship for a while. Sheik could tell Kafei was itching to ask something, however, but he let his cousin come to it on his own.

"What will you do now?"

"Hm?"

Kafei grimaced. "Don't play dumb," he scolded Sheik. "You'll spend the next few weeks or months with Zelda and Link and everyone else, enjoying yourself, but don't think I haven't seen the way you look at the notes and maps he left you. You're going after him, aren't you?"

Sheik scowled. He'd hoped no one had noticed. "I can't just let him off the hook," he said. "He did _some_ good things in the end, but that doesn't automatically redeem him; it doesn't erase his past crimes." His hands curled into fists on the railing. "Ascal needs to pay for what he's done; what he put us all through. All the lives that have to be avenged...I failed once, after Dehl. I won't fail again." He touched the sheath strapped to his thigh, where his grandmother's _kukri_ nestled, as if to emphasise his point. "I will find them both, if I can."

"Camdessus has been exiled—as far as Zelda is concerned, he is to remain free as long as he never returns to Hyrule," Kafei reminded him.

"Somehow, I think those two come as a pair, no matter where they end up," Sheik said. "Besides, I'm not going after Camdessus for _my_ sake...but Link's. He lost his family because of him, vampire venom or not."

"And how does Link feel about it all?"

Sheik looked down. "I haven't told him yet."

"Maybe consider doing that, before announcing any great plans or undertakings," Kafei said. "Just a suggestion from someone who's learned a little about making plans without including one's significant other."

"Elenwe's that scary, huh?"

Kafei paled a little. "Cousin, you have _no_ idea!"

* * *

A few days later, still panting from their exertions, Sheik and Link lay in their bed, enjoying the afterglow of the, frankly, amazing sex they'd just had.

What Ascal had failed to mention in his notes was the sheer amount of stamina that Sheik would come to possess as his body grew accustomed to the condition. He'd mentioned being stronger and faster, but longevity and the rate of oxygen uptake Sheik was experiencing was absolutely ridiculous. Coupled with Link's own little changes, the effect it had on their more carnal activities was _insane_.

Sheik grinned to himself and rolled over, burying his face into Link's neck, happy that he only felt a _small_ urge, easily ignored, to bite into the sensitive flesh there and partake in the red fluid rushing just beneath. Knowing that he was in control, that Link was safe around him, that they didn't have to _worry_ about these things...that made him immeasurably happy.

Link huffed, his hand tilting Sheik's head up so he could plant a gentle kiss on the Sheikah's lips. So unlike the roughness from before, which was just as good. But this was...almost better. To be honest, anything that involved Link was liable to make him happy.

_Goddesses, my thoughts don't even make sense anymore,_ he thought, whimpering a little when he felt Link bite his lower lip, drawling a little blood. "Teeth," he gently reminded his lupine lover, who trilled in apology and settled for gently nibbling instead, after licking the small punctures clean. He flushed, when he remembered one of Ascal's notes from the information he'd so thoughtfully compiled on the wolfos as well.

_**Their bite does not affect walkers in the slightest. It would appear our respective conditions are incompatible, somehow. A walker cannot turn into a wolfos from a bite, and a wolfos cannot be turned into a walker from ingesting our blood; not even in a dying state, which seems to be required for either of our infections to take hold. In other words, when you and Wolfy are shaking the sheets, feel free to bite each other to your hearts' content.** _

That passage, and the many others of that nature Ascal had littered his notes with, had only increased Sheik's hatred for the man, even though it had certainly opened up a new avenue of pleasure for the pair of them.

Trying to banish the thoughts of Ascal from his mind, Sheik forced himself to focus back on Link, returning the Hylian's kisses with lazy ones of his own, their bodies entwining beneath the sheets. Link still insisted on wrapping himself around Sheik whenever he could, like he was a protective cocoon of sorts. He did that with everyone he considered part of his pack, really, whenever one (or several) of them were unfortunate enough to wind up falling asleep in the same room as him, but he always paid special attention to Sheik when he did.

_Makes sense,_ Sheik thought. _I'm his mate, after all_. He still blushed at the thought.

"Kafei got word back from Master Terra," he mumbled as they were both falling asleep.

Link made a noise that indicated he was about to fall asleep, but was still paying attention.

"He's been given permission to open a workshop here, and possibly expand it to a new Studio, once the recruits start coming in again...and if Zelda agrees, of course." Sheik nuzzled into Link's chest, appreciating the strong musculature hidden beneath the soft skin. "He'll take position as Master Hunter until further notice. I was thinking about asking Eren and Nikal if they wanted to join them, to become hunters as well. What do you think?"

Link took a moment to contemplate the idea, his chest rising and falling in a hypnotic manner that almost had Sheik dozing off. Then he huffed in an approving tone.

"I figured you'd like the idea—it'll give them something to do," he said, kissing Link's left pectoral muscle, and then the right. He enjoyed how it made Link shiver. "Other than driving Kaura crazy by stealing Tao away all the time, that is."

Link chuckled at that, hands reaching up to brush through Sheik's hair, which had come undone from its braid earlier during their...activities.

"I never asked what you wanted to do," Sheik said. "Once everything has been established, I mean. Will you remain with the hunters, or..." he swallowed. "Will you be coming with me?"

For all the bluster and annoyance he'd shown when Sheik had finally opted to tell him about his plans to hunt down Ascal, Link had never once tried to stop Sheik or talk him down from it. Sheik was thankful for that. That Link understood. He hadn't dared ask the Hylian to come with him, though. It felt...too personal, to ask. Like there was no choice but to accept, once asked. Ascal was Sheik's responsibility, and he didn't want to drag Link into it because he felt obligated to because they were lovers. Mates.

"Or perhaps you'll do neither," Sheik continued, realising he was starting to babble. "Maybe you'll go to become a ranch hand at Malon's farm, or just travel, or—"

Link's finger on his lips silenced him, and the Hylian then forced him to look at his hands as he signed at the slow, measured speed that meant Link wanted him to fully understand what he was saying. Even in the complete darkness of their room, Sheik's vision had no problem recognising his signs.

**I am going with you. I wish you did not feel the need to chase him, but I understand it, and I will help and support you the whole way. Do you know why?**

Sheik shook his head, and Link chuckled again.

**Because I love you. Because I want you to be safe, and that is the best way for me to ensure that you are. And because I promised you something, back then.**

"Back when?"

**At the Temple.**

Sheik fought the urge to kiss Link again, wanting him to finish what he was saying. "Because we're monsters..." he said.

**And we will be monsters together,** Link finished. **No matter what.**

"I love you," Sheik said, and kissed him fiercely.

He had no idea where to start, other than vague notes and maps. His prey had centuries of experience, and knew all his techniques and tactics, having developed many of them. But Sheik was stubborn, if nothing else, and he had a partner and friends he could rely on through thick and thin.

It would certainly be an interesting hunt.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**Several weeks later, in a land far to the north...**

There was an excited murmur going around the round table as the last member of their cabal entered the dimly lit meeting chamber, taking her seat after exchanging nods with each of them in turn. All seven had managed to gather today. For once, their group had full attendance. That in itself was a good sign. The tension rose as the seventh member held her silence for a long moment before smiling widely.

"Brothers, sisters, it fills me with joy to see you all here again," she said. "It has been far too long since we were all gathered like this."

"Five years, is it, since we were all in the same room last?" one man said, rubbing his bearded chin. "We have all been busy."

"Believe me, Brother Corin," she said, "I would not have called this meeting were it not of utmost importance...though I believe most of you will already know the reason."

"It is true, then?" the lady next to her asked. "The traitor has disappeared?"

Their leader nodded. "He has. Soon after Sister Dehl was so viciously murdered by his little lapdog, Emory went into hiding. He has left the young Sheikah as the new Lord of Hyrule. Apparently, a new hunter workshop has been established there, bigger than the last one."

A murmur of disgust went around the table at the mention of the hunters.

"Has he been summoned yet?" Corin asked.

"He will be, soon enough," she replied. "The others are still reeling from what happened."

"All the more reason to remove them," the lady said, grinning viciously. "They are too slow to act."

"I agree," the leader said, nodding. A lock of her blonde tresses had escaped the bun it was kept in, hanging beside her head. "However, as you know, the whole group must be in agreement before we take any action." She looked at them, one by one. "Are we all of the opinion that our time has come? That it is time to act?"

One by one, six of them, including her, raised their hands in agreement. All eyes landed on the last member, the man directly opposite of her.

"What say you, Brother Kerran?" she asked. "Is it time?"

The blonde Hylian leaned forward, locking gazes with her. "On one condition," he said. "I get the traitor."

Slowly, the leader nodded. "Revenge, is it?" she said. "Very well, brother. You shall have Emory. Your family _will_ be avenged."

The Hylian grinned widely, his fangs flicking into place. "Then I agree."

* * *

**The Real End**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Because even when the story is finished I cannot resist ending it at a stinger!**
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> **So, The Hunt is done. Complete. Finito. What started out as a Bloodborne-inspired tale of gruesome monsters turned into a different kind of beast entirely...which, for me, isn't all that unusual since I apparently have a lot of difficulty sticking to the script (even when I'm the one writing it!).**
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> **I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this behemoth of a story, and extend an extra thanks to those who have commented on it, whether it was to offer constructive criticism or just to tell me they enjoyed it. It is truly what has kept me going, even in the times I wanted to stop writing because I'd run out of inspiration or ideas.**
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> **As you can probably tell, an idea for a sequel has already planted itself in my mind, though I am as of yet unsure if I will be pursuing it or not. Another idea that is floating around in my head is a series of vignettes and one-shots set in this universe—mostly just following the daily lives of our cast either before or after The Hunt. Perhaps even a few peeks into the lives of Emory and Rivea before the nastiness at the Studio occurred. Is this something you would be interested to read? Please let me know through comments or PMs, if so!**
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> **Once again, I thank you all for reading this story, and I hope to see you again!**
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> **\- Andy**


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